Fates Intertwined
by James Ray Edwards
Summary: A fateful coin toss led to this moment. She searches desperately for the answers to her past. He is consumed by the present. Together they will change the future. [FaytxMaria]
1. Chapter 00

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Disclaimer:

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So, without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

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Fates Intertwined

Chapter 00:

_The Coin Toss_

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

-

"Well, this looks like just the kind of mess we were trying so hard to dodge, but so much for wishful thinking, eh, Mirage?" remarked the man with blonde hair in a drawling accent.

Another blonde, a woman this time, replied in an effort to humor his candid tones, "Agreed, Cliff, although I think your hunches could not have picked a more fashionable time to be correct."

Cliff Fittir, former leader of the anti-Federation organization "Quark" and universally renowned "artiste" (using the terms loosely), feigned hurt at the snipe. He had known his fellow Klausian more than long enough to know when she was joking with him and when she was genuinely angry with him. "Hey, I did make it perfectly clear at the meeting that we should've scrambled on the spot and nabbed the Leingods back on Hyda the moment we got the info, instead of sitting on our hands and waiting for the coast to be clear, if you know what I mean."

"Rash as always," replied Mirage in a noncommittal manner, her equally dark blue eyes revealing little save for her nearly ever present curiosity. The older Klausian looked like he was about to shoot back a comeback in his defense, but stopped short, his jaw line creasing rigidly as he shot a glance towards the captain's station. A move didn't go unnoticed by the blonde-haired woman either.

Five minutes ago they had arrived in the sector where the last transmission of the _Helre_'s transponder had been before everything went silent, assuming the Federation transport ship had been destroyed or had gone missing in action. The prospects were depressing to say the least with the wealth fresh wreckage floating about in dead space. Salvage teams double-timed to recover the _Helre_'s so-called "black box" to gain more clues as to what happened particularly in its final moments. The only saving grace per say was that there seemed to be no wreckage so far from any Federation escape pods. Still it didn't help much to alleviate the positively deathly tension in the air.

Maria Traydor was **brooding** and that was never a good sign.

If it weren't for Marietta's frenzy of diagnostics and scans that she was running repeatedly from the helmsman's station, a clear sign of her own agitation, Cliff would've felt obligated to hit something. The palpable suspense was killing him, figuratively speaking. All they could do now was wait amidst the electronic ambience and constant humming of the _Diplo_'s crucial life support systems that was regulating all breathable air and waste gases aboard the ship.

"Cliff," Maria inquired all of a sudden, calm as water.

This intrusion gave the male Klausian an audible start, "G-yeh! Oh, uh, hey, what's up, Maria?"

He ignored the blossoming grin on Mirage's face.

"What's the farthest range the new Federation escape pods are capable of traveling to?"

"Hmm, the last I heard they were good for about - two to five light-years, give or take a few. I'm kinda rusty on the technical specs myself."

"Mirage?"

"Cliff is mostly correct, although we should truly give more credit to the compact creation engines the Federation has fitted onto their latest generation escape pods," the woman added, "in fact, they can go a lot farther than their mortal occupants can withstand."

"So, realistically, it's within one to three light-years, right?"

"Correct."

"Good, let's inspect our star maps for any inhabitable planets within a three light-year radius and dispatch teams at once to recover Fayt Leingod..." Maria paused contemplatively, "_and_ any significant relations to the Leingods, especially the girl, Sophia Esteed, understood"

Mirage smiled and nodded her silent assent, moving swiftly off towards her station to compile a list of possible "refugee" planets in the nearby systems. It appeared that in spite of setbacks Quark was still going to follow through with its original plans, that is: A. Get the Leingods all nice and comfy in one spot. B. Beat the snot out of Professor Leingod (optional) for some answers for the abominable experiments he has partaken.

Plan C was still in the works at the moment, though.

"So we're going with the _plan_, right, Maria?" Cliff asked the light blue-haired girl tentatively. He knew he really should've thought of her more so a young woman considering their current predicament, but it was times like these that he needed a little something to humor himself. Besides, he and Mirage were practically her godparents or surrogate uncle and aunt! How could anybody possibly blame him for doting on Quark's contemporary leader a little?

The "boss" nodded, "Yes, although we'll be a little short on manpower..."

The blonde-haired Klausian gave a laugh, pumping his fists confidently into the air. He had a good hunch already creeping up the back of his sleeve, and his hunches were always good for the money.

Well, mostly...

"Eh, don't worry about a thing. We'll find the kid for sure!"

"But of course," she agreed with him, "however to make up for the lack of manpower, I'll be joining the search myself as well."

The audible spit-take shattered any semblance of peace and normality (well, if one could call the clearly serious matter of tracking down Fayt Leingod, son of the famed Professor Leingod, anything but average) on the bridge.

Immediately, three sets of eyes affixed themselves onto Cliff Fittir who violently appeared to be trying to swallow something down that had gone down the wrong side of his windpipe. Several more punctuated coughs ensued before he whirled around on Maria with an alarmed, incredulous stare. "W-Whoa, _Hey_! That's not part of the plan we agreed on at all!"

"I understand your feelings, Cliff, but yesterday and today have become two entirely different stories. We can't rely completely on our original plan anymore..."

"But you're the leader of Quark, Maria!"

"I know, but with the Vendeeni breathing down our necks, we'll need to pull all of our resources together if we're going to beat the clock, including me."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Maria. You're not being rational at all here. Aren't you taking this a little bit too..."

"Personal?" the light blue-haired girl said casually without batting an eye.

Cliff internally cringed at his own lack of tact. "I guess you could say that..."

"That's enough, Cliff," Mirage spoke up, deftly defusing a potential emotional bomb that was about to go off.

The male Klausian shot her a look as if to protest but thought better of it and turned away with a pout on his sulky face, crossing his brawny arms over his chest. An aura of displeasure seemed to radiate off the blonde-haired man in waves. Certainly, Cliff meant well but this entire affair was _personal_ since day one.

"I suspect you have grievances to say too, Mirage?" Maria asked the blonde-haired woman.

She nodded, keeping a neutral smile on her face"Yes, to be frank I don't approve of your decision either. However, I also respect that the Leingods are very important to you. We all willingly joined you knowing the risks, and if you feel that locating the boy, Fayt, at this is the best lead we have, then so be it. I won't stop you, Maria, but know that Cliff, myself, and the rest of the crew are only worried about your well-being. It's not because you are our leader, but because you **are** **_family_** to us and we don't want to lose you, that's all."

To say that Maria Traydor wasn't taken a back at all would've been a lie. After having spent the last seven years of her life with Quark through thick and thin, they truly were her family and she didn't want to lose them either. Her heart churned and quailed, torn between two opposing desires. She desperately wanted to find Fayt Leingod. That boy was her last good chance to unravel the secrets behind her origins. If she lost him now, it would take years, maybe decades before she could uncover another solid lead.

No, she thought in steely resolution, shaking her head visibly as she closed her eyes in deep concentration. I won't let Cliff, Mirage, or the crew stop me. I have to - I have to find him! I don't care how many battleships the Vendeeni or the Federation sends! I will find you, Fayt Leingod, and you _will_ help me.

The rage; she could feel it building up inside her. A violent maelstrom of power swirled within her very being, enticing her, daring her to embrace its mellifluous joy. She would never have to fear anyone or anything ever again. The power to protect, the power to destroy, and the power to create would all be hers...

"**_Maria_**, snap out of it!" roared a voice at the edge of her consciousness. She couldn't quite put her finger on the familiar male baritone. Where had she heard that voice before?

The voice raged on in ever increasing alarm, "Dammit, its no good! Looks like I got no other choice. Sorry 'bout this, Maria, no harm meant!"

What?

-

"The _Swordfish II_ is away, sir!" announced the deck master over the comm-link, much to the ambivalence of several parties involved.

A mixture of relief and consternation was abuzz on the bridge as the relief crew went to work. Word of the "incident" had not spread yet but everyone would find out soon enough about Maria's latest little "hiccup." Once she had regained consciousness, the light blue-haired girl - err, young woman - had been full of questions, not knowing herself what had happened. Lying to her hadn't been exactly the right thing to do, but Mirage was an expert when it came to skillful rhetoric. A careful medley of the truth and something otherwise took care of that unfavorable predicament soon enough.

The Boss took the bait whole and quickly shrugged it off, taking some extra painkillers to alleviate the bothersome abdominal pain. It was decided they would all still meet as planned at the rendezvous point after Fayt Leingod had been rescued from whatever uncertainty that had befallen him. Hopefully, he hadn't gotten eaten by some wild animal in the wilderness. Worse: the locals took an interest in him, deciding to put him on the menu for their next sacrifice to their god.

"Oh boy, this is so not my day," Cliff drawled dryly, staring off into space as he lounged in the captain's chair. Even after Maria had taken command, she still hadn't bothered to alter the comfort setting on the chair at all, almost as if she was planning to give it back to him some day.

The blonde-haired Klausian man frowned at that thought, "Okay, now I'm thinking way too much about this."

"About what, Cliff?" Mirage asked him from where she stood beside him. Her presence was affording him a little bit of peace, although not necessarily peace of mind. He had insisted the she went with Maria, a demand that she had all but said "HELL NO" to, which soured his mood some at the time.

"Who else?"

"It's Maria, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I still don't like this one bit at all."

"I agree, Cliff."

"...So why did you let her go then?" he queried with a cynical sidelong glance at her.

She smiled affably back, assuaging his abject irritation at her somewhat, "There was not much we could do ourselves to help her now, could we? If she learned about what happened, it would only bother her and make her even more, as you say, _wound up_ then she already is."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. She's been really uptight lately. The Leingods are pretty much on her mind twenty four-seven."

"But you're still worried, aren't you?"

Cliff snorted, "Of course! You know I don't like keeping secrets from her, especially when they're every bit her business to know."

"But don't you think meeting with the Leingod boy, Fayt, would help?" Mirage countered casually, her tone losing its usual objective formality. She was eyeing him with an absolute twinkle in her dazzling eyes, a look that never meant good things.

He gulped, laying his eyes flat, "You're up to something aren't you?"

"Whatever could you mean, Cliff?"

"Mirage, this isn't a game, you know. They could both be exact polar opposites for all we know."

"But don't opposites attract, sir? You're always telling me that whenever I see you with a new paw print on your cheeks."

"_Hey_, that was seriously just for fun! How was I supposed to know..."

"...That foxfolk women don't like having their tails pulled?"

"Ugh, come on, Mirage, work with me here."

"I am, and I think that being around Fayt Leingod will be good for her. Though they're from different walks of life, I think they will learn to pull together, or they will be unhappily bonded together as two people with completely different outlooks. Maria is not an unreasonable person granted, but she does have a rather pragmatic and sometimes dispassionate way of doing things. Minimizing risk, potential loses, while boosting efficiency and the chances of success, even at the expense of herself. She does what has to be done, but her passion is a quiet one and that may be mistaken for cold objectivity."

"That's what I'm afraid of," groaned Cliff Fittir, now the newly appointed interim leader of Quark, burying his face pitifully into a gloved hand.

He really should have called _heads _instead of _tails_ on that stupid fifty-fifty coin toss!

-

To be continued...

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Revision Note:

Hey, thanks a lot, Zosocrowe! I'd never have picked up the missing punctuation if you hadn't pointed it out.


	2. Chapter 01

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Disclaimer:

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

-

Fates Intertwined

Chapter 01:

_Hot-Blooded Righteousness_

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

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They say that just about everybody possesses "free will," that sentient beings are able to change their destinies at will by the simple motion of putting thought to action. Yet, in the infinite span of time, there are moments of the present that truly are remarkable for they are the true defining instances of one's soul. It was at the twilight of such a crossroad now that one, Fayt Leingod, age nineteen, was experiencing from the business end of a Rezerbphase blaster.

Norton! That scumbag!

"So! Any pretty last words before you go, _hero_?" the pale-skinned Rezerb crooned, his voice dripping with mocking sarcasm. He had the righteous Earthling right where he wanted him with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. At this range, he'd gun the kid down before he could even try anything funny. It was game over, plain and simple.

The blue-haired boy snarled; his youthful face filled with indignation. He balled his hands into fists at his side, quivering with anger, but unable to act in the slightest. Fayt knew the tactical situation and possibilities all too well. They were all less than acceptable outcomes, and Norton had him completely at his mercy. "You! _Y-You_!"

"What's wrong, kid? Never been angry before?"

"Its because of guys like you...!"

"Ha-hahaha, come on! Say it! You know, you want to...!"

"**_I'm going to kill you, Norton!_**"

The would-be king of thieves howled with mirth. He loved this feeling, this empowering sensation as he held another's life at his leisure and to watch with unsaid glee, to see them degenerate into the same kind of savage, a greedy thug, a blood-thirsty murderer, just like him.

Wait, what's that? Norton paused briefly, a gloating snipe at the tip of his tongue. Is that a halo on his forehead or something?

He blinked a little, hoping the kid didn't notice his consternation, in an effort to clear his vision. Alas, the strange "illusion" remained right where it was before hovering before the Earthling boy's forehead. The kid seemed completely unawares of it himself. Could it be just his imagination after all? Bah, of course it was, there's no way that kid was some kind of biologically engineered weapon of mass destruction! "Heh, its been fun, _hero_, but it's time for you to die. Say, hello to Nicholas for me when you see him - in _Nastrond_. I'll be having plenty of _fun_ with his little sister later."

"Why you...!" Fayt snarled back in a rage. The metallic whistle of a sword drawn from its scabbard signaled the falling of curtains. He knew he would never make it in time with twelve measured paces between him and the wretched scoundrel, a fatuous smile on Norton's pale face. Yet Fayt could not stop, would not stop for the life of him. Dying like a dog was out of the question.

The Rezerb trained his gun casually, the safety off, on his victim. There was a bright predatory gleam in his eyes, savoring the rising crescendo of drums for the final curtain call, the climax of the show!

Death.

"**_Die!_**" he shrieked, hammering the trigger.

-

There was little time for second thoughts. Her body moved of its own accord, the cold feeling of her microblaster grasped in her hand the first sensation. Countless hours of training and practice drills kicked in, instinct took care of the rest while dexterity zeroed in with needle-like precision. The last sensation, a flicker of light and a hissing whine of ionized air as the microblaster gave a hearty kick.

Faster than the eye could see a near invisible bolt of lit motion smashed into the target. A shrill scream reverberated through the dark humid cellar, sending a shiver through her spine. The rush of adrenaline, a heady high, as her legs continued to carry her forward, ignoring the satisfying clatter of the Aldian phase blaster.

-

"_Gyaaahhhhh_! My! _My_! **_My hand_**!" Norton wailed pitifully, clutching what was left of his mangled right hand, his phase blaster discarded on the ground.

The stench of blood and sizzling flesh clung to the air like a miasma, assaulting the senses ruthlessly. It was enough to ground Fayt's mad charge to a halt. His body rigid as a great fear that he had not grasped before abruptly accosted his once courageous heart. The green orbs of his eyes, windows to his soul, stared out in horror and morbid fascination.

He had never seen anybody get shot before - especially not right in front of him so he could see the traumatic results.

Just then a new sensation caught his attention, Fayt turned to his right, a blank doe-eyed stare in his green eyes. Shocked. Incomprehensible. The urgent staccato of pounding footsteps echoed from down the corridor. Someone was coming, fast.

What should I do? he wondered. Should I run away now? Norton could pick up his gun any moment. ...Wait! What am I doing here!

A tumult of confusion bowled him over, silvers of panic digging across his psyche. The blood in his veins quickened, as a nervous sweat building up against the heat of his skin, pupils dilating wildly. He had to run. Yes! He had to run. Whoever did this was coming! He didn't want to be here when they came!

Fayt half-turned as if to run, his thoughts wild with emotion. That's right! I'll run! No! I'll hide! Just until...

Suddenly he stopped. The blue-haired young man remembered something, something important. A weight in his right hand drew his eyes, and he saw the simple sword he clutched in his plain hand, tighter than death. Knuckles white, his fingers protesting with burning indignation.

Nicholas! he thought sharply, his face lighting up in realization: the reason why he had come here to the bandit's hideout.

The cold fear lifted, his body burning with rekindled courage. He wouldn't run. Fayt Leingod was no coward. He promised! And he wasn't going to back down, not this time, not ever! No more running away!

He spun around, sword at the ready. Norton's cries had receded steadily in his absence and now only a baleful hate burned in the pallor of his pale eye, his mouth twisted into a feral snarl. He ignored the flurrying rush of rapidly approaching footsteps altogether. "**You**! **You did _this_**? **_Didn't you_**?"

Fayt scowled. He honestly didn't know who had fired that shot, but he would deal with it in its own time sure enough when he got to that bridge. "Its over, Norton! Give it up!"

The man snarled back in some alien invective, a series of harsh guttural barks that was all lost to the universal communicators. An eerie burning zeal gleamed in his eyes. Whatever he had said, it couldn't have been pleasant. "Shut up! You think you've won? Think again, _hero_!"

Norton deftly reached back with his remaining good hand, a malevolent smile on his face. Madness radiated from every pore in his skin as Fayt abruptly realized was about to happen. Frantically, his mind tried the list possible options in a rapid flurry. The high fantasy-oriented battle simulator game had never prepared him for a tactical situation of this degree!

"**_Get down_**!" shouted a new voice as a shrill ominous whine filled the air.

The Rezerb laughed, "_Eat this!_"

Fayt could scarcely even react to anything, a bluish-white blur slammed into his torso, knocking him down with the force of a bull. A flash of light, acrid smoke, and deafening noise assaulted his ears.

Dead silence.

At first, there was nothing, then a punctuated whine filled his ears. He could hear it, the angry rapport of blaster fire and vehement curses. There, a receding sound that was like a rush of footsteps, an unusual jerky tempo that spoke volume of an injured man.

"_Norton_..." Fayt wheezed, barely above a hoarse whisper. The pupils of his green eyes dilated intermittently, trying to readjust to the sudden change of light.

Suddenly, he felt something grab him by the shoulders, strong half-gloved hands. Flesh met flesh. They were small hands, a girl's hands probably, and they reminded him of Sophia. How nostalgic, the blue-haired young man thought. Yet, they weren't Sophia's hands. He could feel calluses in them, lending a kind of coarse earthiness to them, but there was also a delicate gentleness in her strength. Who was she?

"Fa..."

"...ay..."

"Fa..t..."

Whose voice is that?

-

"**FAYT**!" Maria shouted. Her musical mezzo-soprano etched with worry. She pleaded silently to whatever power that may be that the flash detonator hadn't seriously hurt the boy. Fayt Leingod had to be okay. He just had to!

The young man in question at last began to stir. A punctuated groan at his lips, no doubt a side effect from the flash detonator that he had taken a virtual direct hit from, but it didn't seem he would suffer any last trauma, at least not yet. She breathed a silent sigh of relief, supporting him upright into a more comfortable position. Hardly did she even think twice about letting him lean on her, as he certainly wasn't coordinated enough yet to support his own weight.

Fayt blinked warily, bringing up a free hand to message his temple with the flat of his palm. This truly had to be the worse headache in his life. He gave a few stilted coughs, his throat irritated by the acrid smoke, which definitely wasn't helping matters. To think this whole mess started from a simple enough desire to do the right thing!

"Are you all right, Fayt?" Maria asked him. A palpable presence of concern radiating from her person as she cradled the blue-haired young man rather protectively in her arms. If any irreparable harm had befallen him, she would make certain that the Aldian received a fate worse than death. No one would dare to harm Fayt Leingod while he was under her expressed protection; she wouldn't allow it, period. "Are you hurt? Is anything broken?"

His body trembled against her with more hoarse coughing. "Wa...ter..."

"Here, drink this," she told him soothingly, procuring a canteen from the compact satchel worn around her waist.

Helping the half-blind boy to unscrew the bottle cap, Maria felt a nostalgic sense of accomplishment as he drank deeply from its contents. It pleased her to see the he would recover quickly, a small smile of content blossoming on her face before she even realized. Strange. She hadn't felt like this in a long, long time. The smiles she shared with Cliff, Mirage, and the rest of her surrogate "family" were - _different_. This emotion, this warmth; the last time she felt this was...

Maria snapped out of her reverie, feeling suddenly the distinctive attention of two green eyes gazing at her. She pushed her thoughts aside, locking them away safely for later cross-examination. Now wasn't the time to be sentimental. Besides, what was this faint heat she felt in her cheeks anyway. She couldn't have caught some native wild fever, did she?

"How are you feeling?" the light blue-haired girl asked her charge casually.

Fayt gave a start, averting his gaze awkwardly. He really hadn't been staring, honest! "Uh...uh, its, I mean... Um, yeah, I'm feeling better now. Thanks for the water."

"Its actually an electrolyte solution meant for use by Federation Space Marines in combat that efficiently quenches a soldier's thirst while replenishing his or her supply crucial electrolytes required by cells to regulate the electric charge and flow of water molecules across the cell membranes. A must-have, considering the highly demanding, ever changing nature of the battlefield."

The blue-haired youth blinked. His thoughts were liken to a scrambled array of hover cars and shuttles during rush hour, crossing dangerously through traffic with manic glee in the face of certain doom and mayhem. What was he supposed to say to that? After nearly a week of sitting around (or moping around brooding on recent traumatic events like some anime hero) doing nothing, today was quickly turning out to be a festive day of revelations, conversations, and surprises (both pleasant and unpleasant).

He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued by this...

"You're staring again, Fayt. Is something wrong?" the girl in question spoke up, brow creased with unease as her voice seemingly jumped out from nowhere.

If possible, Fayt Leingod would've done a spectacular spit-take right there. Instead, he could only opt for the natural response of flushing a visible shade of red in embarrassment, puzzling his rescuer even more.

"Do you have a fever, Fayt?"

Hold on a second! How did she know his name?

"N-No, _n-no_! I'm fine, really," he told her awkwardly, trying his best not to sound like a complete idiot. Come to think of it, she truly was quite pretty - no - beautiful was more like it. A light blue shade of silken hair that flowed past her shoulders, matching eyes that radiated a quiet strength, filled with determination. Her stately, yet functional clothes and noble bearing spoke volumes: a leader, diplomat, Renaissance woman, and no doubt a skilled marksman.

Okay, she was **beautiful**, _attractive_, and **_completely _**out of his league.

Maria nodded her ascent. "Very well, can you walk?"

"Huh? 'Can I walk?'" Fayt replied, meeting the young woman's gaze once more, a question clearly written in his eyes. It was then, too, that he realized the rather close proximity between his person and his savior. His tongue locked up again, unsure of what he supposed to say without offending her. Fortunately, this may have saved him from further mortification.

"The Rezerb is still on the loose."

"Norton!"

"Yes, if that's his name. I caught of a glimpse of him escaping through that secret passage over there. We will need to move quickly, if we're to stop him before he does something - _rash_."

"_Rash_? What do you _mean_, '_rash_'? Do you have any idea what he's done! That scumbag violated the 'UP3' and has been terrorizing the villagers of Whipple ever since he got here! The local lord refuses to do anything to help the villagers too! That man's a **menace**!"

"So I've heard, but you must remember that peoples of the Aldian Empire, such as the Rezerbs,have no obligation to abide by the Federation's 'UP3.' Under legal law, this is beyond their jurisdiction."

Fayt frowned, barely restraining the urge to gasp. The realization had struck him breathlessly as well as any real punch to his gut. Righteous indignation burned in every fiber of his being, not wanting to comprehend and rationalize the gravity of the situation. If he had gone after Norton and killed the vile scoundrel, it would've just been cold-blooded murder, not matter how morally justified. Ethically it was just wrong, plain and simple.

Suddenly, he felt a growing resentment for his mysterious rescuer. Why had she told him this? She had ruined everything! The blue-haired young man scowled, green eyes as smoldering embers of reproach. He pushed himself rudely away from "That Girl," scooting back a comfortable margin before addressing her once more, showing no signs of remorse, "So what are _you _proposing to do?"

"Experience tells me that Norton has a trump card up his sleeve and I intend to stop him before he causes anymore irreparable harm to this world," Maria responded, seemingly unfazed by his curt behavior. Her calm, cool eyes and still at ease body language betrayed nothing, but inside was a different matter. She felt - _hurt_ - for some reason. Oh, she knew better than to blame fault in another, but around Fayt... Ugh, I'm behaving in a completely irrational manner. He's just as hot-blooded and righteous as the reports said he would be. I should have been perfectly prepared for this.

Still, it did hurt.

"Keep in mind, I have no intention of killing him. Machines can be replaced, but lives are finite. It is not our place to play judge and executor. If possible, I would like to capture him alive so we may return him back to the Aldian Empire where he can properly serve out his due sentence."

"Wait, how do you know he's a _fugitive_?"

The question caught her mentally by surprise, but she deftly evaded it with a sweet half-truth before she even realized.

"I could hear you both shouting from the entrance of this cellar. The cold air and acoustics carried your voices easily."

"Oh - uh, right."

"So can you walk?" Maria asked him again, rising smoothly to her feet with a barely audible rustle of fabric.

Fayt rose sharply, feeling oddly challenged by the light blue-haired girl. Alas, he hadn't fully recovered yet from the trauma of the blast and he staggered uneasily on his feet. That Girl made as if to steady, but he curtly cut her off, "_Stop_! I'll be fine! I'm just a little light-headed, that's all."

Maria didn't say a word, keeping her cool as always, but she was definitely starting to grow a touch of a pet peeve around the Leingod boy. She noticed the sword discarded on the stone floor between them and bent down to pick it up. A simple weapon by all accounts, its state-of-the-art craftsmanship was clearly beyond anything made by sentient hands. He must've had this weapon made by the replicator aboard his escape pod before Norton ransacked it, probably.

"I presume this is yours?" Maria presented the sword to Fayt, holding it outwards in a reverse grip with the handle towards him and the blade parallel to the ground. The sword didn't waver at all in her grasp despite the manner of her grip.

Apparently, she was a lot stronger than she looked.

The blue-haired young man accepted the sword from her. "Yeah, its mine."

Maria nodded and drew her microblaster adeptly from its holster with a hiss of leather, earning her a look from Fayt. He clearly was still holding onto the UP3 like a safety blanket, even though its sanctity had been violated quite a while ago. The leader of Quark also had the distinctive feeling that the young man in question was going to lecture her later too. Nobody said being a leader was easy.

"Let's go," she told him, breaking away with surprising celerity into a dead run towards the open maw of the secret passage.

Fayt was about to protest, partially in astonishment and partially because he just remembered about Nicholas. He glanced back to see that the elfin Vanguard boy was mercifully unharmed, still lying unconscious the stone frame of his open cell. Torn between two urgent needs, the young man reluctantly readied his sword and chased after the receding echo of his rescuer's footsteps.

"Sit tight, Nicholas. I promise I'll be back for you," the young man vowed solemnly. He would see to it that justice was done, although he wondered if he could truly hold back from killing Norton.

Fayt ran in pursuit.

-

The balmy glow of the warm sun was a welcome sight from the dank, dark cellar (more like a dungeon), lit only by a few scattered torches. Norton's secret passage had lead out into the barred, debilitated cathedral, a ruin perhaps from some long by-gone era. The pews were long empty, but some of the exquisite mosaic glasswork was still intact. If she hadn't been so preoccupied, she would've gladly taken a few minutes to admire this fascinating site.

Instead, Maria was on edge, standing like a poised Klausian _kith-kat_, ready to pounce at the slightest whim. She stood in the middle of the aisle, eyes at the alert, her ears straining to hear some suspicious noise besides the constant rush of water through the aqueducts in the area. Danger was in the air, a palpable tension that even Cliff would've cracked a wise remark at to ease his discomfort.

Her breathing was steady, making no moves to mask it. Jumping the gun was one of the worst mistakes possible that a marksman could've made, which would've been exacerbated by holding her breath. This wasn't some "sneaking mission" where stealth was highly recommended. No, this was a rescue mission and she honestly didn't mind having to talk with the business end of her microblaster if it came down to it.

"Careful and watch your step. There are some thick vines and roots growing through the cracked masonry," Maria warned her charge.

Fayt gave a start and nearly tripped over a broken stone tile himself with a yelp. He had just emerged from the secret passage moments ago, holding his breath in an effort to move in a stealthy as possible manner when the mysterious girl had called out to him. In spite of his blunder, she didn't say a word, although grudgingly he had to wonder if she thought he was an incompetent. He spoke in strained tones, trying his best to mask his irritation, "Where is he?"

"_The million dollar question_," she remarked casually without turning.

"The million-what?"

"It's an old Earthling saying. One of my mentors - no, _my godfather _- is a big fan of adages, especially the more humorous Earthling anecdotes. Of all the races, he believes we're the most entertaining of all."

"_We're_ the most - oh, you're an Earthling too?"

"_Birds of a feather flock together_, no?"

Fayt nodded tentatively, unsure of the truth in the words. "I guess so."

"Hmm," Maria murmured thoughtfully.

Her ears had picked up a new sound. The carefree chirping of birds was barely audible over the din of rushing water streaming through the exposed ancient aqueducts. It was peaceful all right, much too peaceful. Surely, the animals could sense the innate danger in the air.

Abruptly, she heard it. The tumultuous flutter of a hundred wings beating frantically together in a rising storm that overpowered the voices of the protesting water. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, like they had been electrified. She whirled around on Fayt, her instincts breaking loose, her eyes screaming what could not be said immediately, a warning.

He comes!

"What the!"

"**Down**!" Maria commanded, tackling the blue-haired young man to the ground roughly. He gave a barely audible oath of protest before a faint blue matrix of light snapped into place around them, radiating seemingly from the girl's body.

Just then, it happened. Even years later, Fayt would remember this terrifying instant in his life, a haunting thing that would follow him straight to his grave. There was that seemingly infinite sound, a piercing wretched shriek that shook him to the bone, setting his teeth squirming painfully in place. Violent super-heated air buffeted them from all sides, his ears popping as air pressure rapidly decreased. He felt like his skin was on fire, his blood boiling in his veins. Desperately, he wanted to scream but could not as the very air in his lungs was seemingly being "sucked" out of him.

He was suffocating, burning alive, so much pain! Then there was the light, that so terrible light. It was power given shape and form, an endless column of white energy, crackling with electricity, which sundered all in its path. Fayt was afraid, so very afraid. If the mysterious young woman hadn't been shielding him partially then, he was certain he would've gone blind from its awesome brilliance, if not mad. It was close, so close; close enough for him to reach out - and touch it.

It could've been an eternity for how long it went on to him but just as suddenly, it was over. He had lived, survived this horrible ordeal. However, the damage had been done and he would never be the same again. Little did he know this was but the beginning of his many nightmares to come.

-

"Ugh, too close for comfort..." Maria seethed with a pained wince. She had taken the brunt of the trauma from the plasma cannon discharge and her body, especially her back, was now loudly protesting the unjustified beating it had taken. The things one did as a leader, but surely, some rest and one of Mirage's heavenly body messages would do her good. Her godmother seriously had to open up her own health spa one of these days as a private venture. The Gods of Klaus themselves must've blessed those hands!

Still, at least her hair was having a swell time, completely frizzled out from the leftover static electricity that was audibly humming in the air.

If Cliff could see her right now...

-

"Heey, Maria! Did I ever tell you about the time I was body-guardin' for this _fine _felinefolk ambassador on _Cancun Seven_?" Cliff addressed her cheerfully in his distinctive drawling tones. He was positively glowing with good feelings today, his handsome face all done up with a satisfied grin. By the old Earthling adage, he looked and felt like a million bucks. Maybe he finally won the Klaus GQ sweepstakes for Male of the Month.

Mirage shook her head, smiles as always. She murmured in hushed tones to Marietta, like cats in a corner, earning a muffled laugh from the helmswoman.

"As I can recall, I don't believe so, Cliff," Maria replied neutrally in an effort to humor him. There weren't doing anything particularly important and the blonde-haired Klausian male just absolutely loved to tell tales of his grand, spectacular exploits. It was hard to believe that Cliff Fittir was well into his late thirties, yet he had more energy, an insatiable zest for life than thirty younger men half his age did, and that was a lot of testosterone all right.

"Oh, man; oh, man! You have got to hear this, Maria!"

Yes, he was definitely in a good mood.

"Okay, I was doing a job about ten years ago, maybe two years before I met you, and long after Mirage got my back, if you know what I mean."

"Uh-huh."

"Now, _Cancun Seven_ is like one of _the **biggest**_ **babe** hotspots in the entire universe! There are few places where you will find more beautiful women (or surfer dudes if you like) struttin' the streets, the plazas, and the beaches! in all the wonder and majesty, that Mother Nature gave them. Oh, so many beautiful people! Why, the first time I arrived on _Cancun Seven,_ I was positively moved beyond words; I could feel the tears streaming down my face, even though I tried to hold them back. And then I _fainted _riight there on the spot!"

"What? It was the most touching thing I had ever seen in my life, Maria. It was like coming home, you know!"

"You _fainted_..._Cliff_?"

"Of course, any _artiste_ worth his art is going to cry like a baby and faint on the spot like a fan-girl at an N'Sync Two concert."

"So - I see."

"Anyways, I was protecting this one felinefolk ambassador gal and she was _real_ young, if you know what I mean. I'm still surprised they put a _masked _babe like her on the job."

"'Masked babe'?"

"That's the _Artiste _way of saying babes who haven't discovered their inner '_babeliciousness_.' That's easily fixed enough by an _artiste_ of my experience."

"'_Babeliciousness' - _I'll have to make a note to look it up later, but please continue with your story."

"Yeah, of course, Maria! So anyways, I took it upon myself to show her _The Way of the Babe_."

"'The Way of the Babe.'"

"That's right. Its sort of like _Bushido_, except it's a code for babes, eh?"

"Hmm."

"Weell, it took quite a bit of work, but in just four days _Miss _Felicia was well on her way to one-hundred percent. I even got her to agree to go on a date with me, just the two of us on a private beach that we had all to ourselves thanks to a couple friends of mine."

"Impressive, Cliff, although I'm sure Mirage would approve much more if you were to dedicate the same zeal to Quark's affairs."

"Heey, I give my all to all tail, Quark included. It's just around babes that the effects are a lot more spectacular!"

"So, you say."

"Yup, so we're out strolling together under the starlight sky, the twin moons of _Cancun Seven_ serenading us, and not another soul in sight 'cept us. It was beautiful, Maria. Romantic. Perfect. I told myself that nothing could go wrong tonight."

"It must've been a memorable evening."

"Oh, man, it gets better, Maria. Oh, it gets _much _better. Now, I don't know which clown or joker decided to infiltrate the Cancun National Weather Center right then and there, but all of sudden it got all moody and cloudy, a real fine big mess. My plans were all messed up huge, so I figured we'd just go back to my - uhh - I'd _escort_ her back to _her _pad, you know. But right then, **the** _biggest_ fluke of nature happened!"

"...Don't you mean 'freak of nature,' Cliff?"

"No, Maria, _fluke_ of nature! It was the most amazing thing I'd ever experienced."

"That is?"

"I dodged a lightning bolt, Maria."

"I mean it. I really did dodge a lightning bolt, Maria. I got no clue how I did it, but it was like 'BLAM!' and 'WOOOOO!' Ever since then, I got the official title of 'Lightning Dodger Extraordinaire' added to my _artiste _status trophies."

"..._Lightning_..._Dodger_..."

"Yeah, it wasn't easy either. Heck, I'm not even sure I can do it again, but I'd sure love to give it one more shot. Heh, what a rush!"

"Out of curiosity, what happened to Miss Felicia?"

"Oh, Felicia?" Cliff remarked with a kind bizarre inflection in his voice, as if he had just remembered something - odd. He was scratching the back of his head with his free hand on his hip in a kind "I'm Bad, so Bad, I'm Feeelin' Good!" manner. It was one of those purely Cliff moments.

Maria nodded, ignoring the obvious sign that she was about to hear something from the realm of Cliff-Weird. Yes, Cliff-Weird.

"Oh, she was kind of a humanoid fluffy fur-ball for about a week or two, completely killed her _babeliciousness_ super-id. She was AFRO'd, big time."

She tried to picture a humanoid fur-ball in her mind - and gave a shudder.

-

Yes, a fur-ball.

Cliff sure had some crazy ideas locked in his head.

Never mind that! What about Fayt? Maria berated herself sharply, snapping out of her brief reverie. She looked down and met the gaze of not a man but a thing that nearly made her lurch back with a flinch. Cliff and Mirage had told her about this, not to mention she was intimately familiar with subject having been a patient once herself. A nervous breakdown was certainly not uncommon among sentient beings. With the right combination of high stress factors, anybody would "snap" sooner or later.

Having the said breakdown in a middle of a battle, though, was definitely a cause of concern, considering peoples' lives were at stake, specifically one Fayt Leingod and one Maria Traydor, although he didn't even know her name yet. She'd have to introduce herself properly later, but there might not be time for that either.

Quickly, she leapt off him, ignoring the ghastly devastation around her and the acrid burned out smell from her fried personal shield generator strapped on her hip. Without it, they would've ended up worse than slag and a direct hit would've certainly left little more than atoms. She scrambled in search of a particular item, Fayt's sword. It lay discarded none too far way, luckily unharmed by the plasma blast. Maria thanked her fortune that she hadn't been stabbed when she had tackled its owner down to the ground for the second time that day.

That didn't mean Chief Seiya wasn't going to shoot through the roof (again), when he heard she had fried another one of his personal shield generators, with an absurd screech of frustration.

With the boy's weapon recovered, she hurried back to his side, making a note to recover her own microblaster that lay unattended beside him and return it back to its holster. Now came the hard part of hauling Fayt out of here. The sword would need to be carried in case she was able to snap him out of his near comatose state, or he managed to recover in time. The light blue-haired young woman highly doubted either scenario was possible, but she could try to hope for the best.

Maria heaved Fayt across her shoulders, which was no easy task since her charge was: a good one to two heads taller than her, most certainly heavier than her despite his slim physique, and she lug around his sword too. She gave a grunt of great fortitude when she rose to her feet in a precarious balance that took a few moments to steady. Honestly, she had to wonder how Mirage handled a heavy weight like Cliff on a daily basis when she was having trouble managing just with Fayt. The disproportional strength must've been one of the more beneficial perks of being a Klausian the light blue-haired girl deduced.

She double-tapped on her communicator with her free hand, hailing her ship, _The Swordfish II_. "Eight, I need transport out of here A-SAP, copy?"

"Roger, ma'am, E-T-A threee minutes," an energetic female, child-like voice responded as Maria trudged as fast as she could out of the destroyed church. It looked like somebody had taken a pair of hedge clippers and completely sheared off most of the building. Clearly, the leader of Quark and her charge had escaped by a truly narrow margin indeed.

"Careful, the El-Zee is hot, I repeat, the El-Zee is hot. Tango position unknown. Plasma discharge, minimal Class Three, maybe Five. Could be a tank, triple-A, a ship, or an arm slave, over."

"Ten-Four!" Eight acknowledged before closing the encoded transmission.

Help would arrive in three minutes, but would she survive another three minutes out in the open with the universe's current most pissed off sniper? A sniper who was using a high output _plasma cannon_ to snipe with no less? Maria hoped her luck was as good as Cliff's miraculous hunches.

Otherwise, this living bundle of hot-blooded righteousness on her shoulders was just going to go to waste.

-

To Be Continued...

-

Author's Note:

A big "Thank you!" to all you readers who've read and/or reviewed so far. Also, many thanks to Tristan and Zosocrowe for the technical heads-ups and "spiritual" support. Without them, this very special Cliff-Weird moment would not have been possible. Oh, and I hope I didn't do too bad with Fayt. The game's portrayal of him makes him so blah and you never really get a feel for the way he ticks, but there is clearly some variety to his character progression judging by the various possible responses he possesses in personal actions.

Revision Note:

Fixed the little formatting SNAFU with the "U-..." sentences. Apparently, QuickEdit's software doesn't like having things with more than one dash in them. I was literally trying to sound out UP3 in words for the dialogue since people don't exactly "speak" with arabic numbers, hence the military geek speek later with "El-Zee" instead of "LZ."

As for Norton being a Rezerb, dang, my bad. Its been awhile since the beginning of them game. Think I could maybe slide by in lobbing the Rezerbs as a "liberated people" or "citizen worlds" to the Aldian Empire? I can't even remember if there was anything even significant about them. Well, fixed that too.

Maria's really long and odd monologue in a middle of a fight, not to mention her sometimes rather absorbed introspection. Inappropriate. Weird. Overboard. Yes, I'm definitely guilty as charged. You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to maintain a good 3rd Omniscient POV; too much stuff going on in my head.

Fayt using too many exclamation marks during his introspection in the hideout: Okay, I think I screwed up somewhere. The marks are supposed to be there to accent his panic/trauma at the time after seeing Norton's hand pretty much blown off.(The game mercifully censored us all from the visible physical effects of the high-tech weaponrypresent in the SO3 universe on a sentient "flesh and blood" being. In other words, no gore - well, there's gore now.) Maybe I went out a bit too much on a limb with Fayt's righteous anger at the time that was awakening his "super powers." Hmmm, wild with emotion...

Pop Culture References: Guys, chill out. I'm not trying to win any awards here. My theory at least is that Culture is persistent with both the good and the bad. After all if it wasn't, why would we as a high contemporary society care about things, like what sort of midnight liasons Julius Caesar's wife might have had, or why the heck the Romans bothered with such a "barbaric" bloodsport in the fashion of gladiators duking it out in the Colloseum? We have football teams and so many other things named after seemingly outmoded stuff, i.e. The Buccaneers, the Cowboys, the Patriots, etc. Why bother at all? Because its part of history, human nature as we know it.

But anyways, just chill out, folks, and for those of you who can recognize them, more power to you!


	3. Chapter 02

-

Disclaimer:

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

-

Fates Intertwined

Chapter 02:

_Showdown_

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

-

Even in the contemporary era of SD 772, the topic of "Vengeance" was still very much a subject of debate among philosophers and legislators alike. When the law didn't serve due justice to a man or a woman, did he or she not have the right to demand just satisfaction by their own means? There has always existed a history of vigilante justice, which was far from solely isolated in the human race. Of course, one had to wonder whether they same satisfaction could apply to criminals stripped of nearly all rights and privileges.

Right now, though, Norton could give less than a wamp rat's hide about criminal justice.

He was out for blood and he would have it as surely as the blue son-of-a-_schutta_'s head on silver platter. That _frack_ had got his hand! His very _favorite_ hand too! He was going to kill that _frelling_ _fracker_ for sure!

"Ha! How'd you like that, _hero_? Not so tough now are you with Big John on my side!" the Rezerb jeered triumphantly. "That'll show you to _frack_ with Norton, son of Krulan, the greatest Warlord to ever grace Rezerb!"

Truth be told, the daring escape that Norton himself had related to the foolish Earthling boy had been a half-truth. His father, though not a particular loving man, was a man of great insurmountable pride. The mere thought of even one of his fool sons rotting away in some hellish prison for an equally foolish stupidity had irked him greatly. Krulan would sooner die than have his great name shamed in such a way, so he had arranged for his wayward son's escape attempt.

The pale-skinned scoundrel had certainly been telling the truth when he remarked on the series of unfortunate events that had sabotaged his prisoner transport ship. His father had arranged for the "materials" superbly, completely untraceable so that no fault could be traced back to him. The actual act of putting the scheme together still fell down to Norton. Privately, he admitted he had gone overboard a touch, but overkill was better than impotence.

Now, he sat in the cool cockpit of the last parting gift from his father, a Rezerbian state-of-the-art _Nousjadeul-Ger_ assault-class arm slave. The Warlord had been so kind as to hide it amongst the cargo manifest pre-programmed already with an activation code that only Norton would've been able to infer. He had been saving it for a rainy day ever since and that day was today. Once he had confirmed that Earthling brat was dead, he was going to go burn down that stupid village next and that incompetent lord's estate! They would all pay in blood for this insult.

"Let's see here - WHAT!" the Rezerb sputtered, pale eyes bulging visibly in their sockets.

Pure, utter disbelief was written all across his slack-jawed face as he saw a figure emerged from the ruined church. It was an off-worlder, too, by the looks of its high precision quality clothes. Those clothes could've only been made by a modern manufacturing infrastructure. A female, she was burdened by a seemingly unconscious figure on her shoulders that Norton quickly recognized as the insufferable Earthling boy. His face contorted with fury, realizing this all meant.

Funny, he should've known he had _other visitors_ today.

The Rezerb laughed a cold harsh laugh. There was a murderous, evil gleam in his eyes, pale white teeth glittering from the glare of the panoramic display monitors. "Hah-heheheh, too bad. I guess Nicholas's little sister will have to wait. Business before pleasure and I'm going to have **a lot** of _fun_ tearing those _fracks_ to **_pieces_**!"

-

Come on, come on! There has to be somewhere safe I can hide Fayt temporarily! Maria thought urgently in between labored breaths.

Her booted feet pounded loudly against the stone pavement, much to loudly for her tastes. Despite being burdened by a near-comatose Fayt Leingod and his replicated sword, she trudging along at a good pace, not near as fast she would normally move but well enough with the circumstances. Still, the light blue-haired girl didn't like it one bit at all. Norton was out there somewhere, probably prepping up for a follow up shot. She had just made it past the adjoining courtyard and onto an extended bridge, a critical junction onto the "town" proper portion of the ruins.

A sitting duck waddling about in the open with only two ways to go: backwards or forward.

If there were to be an ambush or another attack, it would be now. Maria had nowhere to run and she wasn't about to leave her charge behind either. So, what could possibly be keeping Norton? What was he waiting for? Oh, if only Eight could get here faster with the _Swordfish II_ without getting spotted!

Wait, what's that sound? she paused promptly in mid-stride.

There was an eerie hum in the air. It set her teeth on edge, the hairs on the back of her neck jolting up, electrified. She could hear it, a distant whistle closing in fast. There was an unspoken question of apprehension written all over the frown in her complexion. What could it be? Was it an artillery shell?

Her answer was more than prompt enough.

A black shrieking blur slammed into the ancient masonry a good fifty meters, the impact a deafening crack that stung the ears. Maria instinctively raised her free arm to shield her face as roaring shockwave whipped past her, sending her white long coat billowing in the violent wind like a cape. Her hair drawn back painfully by the gale force winds, she weathered the ensuing onslaught of dust and debris. The entirety of the ancient bridge was shaking in indignation, threatening to come apart right underneath her feet at any moment.

Gritting her teeth in determination, the light blue-haired young woman struggled to keep her balance while continuing to shoulder Fayt. So much for the ambush, she observed with clinical detachment, or anymore "poking around the bushes" for that matter. Norton was more than up to a challenge.

The dust settled soon after and Maria wasn't heartened to see the artillery the fugitive had decided brandish before her. It stood at least fifteen meters in height, taller than even Cliff's impressive AG-02S _Hurricane Hawk_, with a generally humanoid design. It vaguely resembled a giant suit of armor in the philosophy of most arm slaves with no hard angles and a completely curved, sleek armor design philosophy. Various exhaust vents appropriately made themselves apparent on its muscular limbs while a communication antennae made on the side of the head, like a crest.

She had certainly never seen this type before with its large bore cannon protruding from its stomach and a swivel-mounted medium bore cannon on its backpack. The color scheme was starlight green with black gunmetal and red visor over the main cameras. Whatever it was, there was no doubt it was a formidable war machine. Her chances of defeating such an opponent, considering the circumstances, were quickly dwindling as she ran down a list of possible options.

Two minutes and twenty seconds until Eight arrived.

"Well, well, guess who's _back_?" Norton crooned. The sweet mocking tones of his voice amplified bone jarringly loud by the external loudspeakers as he leveled a hand-held beam gun of some sort at her and Fayt. "I'm back, larger than life, and no more _screw ups _this time!"

Maria lowered her arm, maintaining her resolve with a show of cool neutrality in the face of certain death. Leaders weren't allowed to show fear, ever. Weakness was a thing to be eradicated, a costly human frailty that could ill be afforded. The fires of war and desolation had forged her. If this bloodthirsty thug thought to intimidate her, he had another thing coming to him.

The Rezerbian arm slave cocked its head to the side, as if mimicking a sudden thoughtful mood in its pilot. "Hmm, I haven't see you around before, _female_, but let me guess - you're that Earthling brat's friend aren't you?"

"Neither friend or foe, I am but a humble negotiator," the leader of Quark replied lightly. She doubted she could talk her away out of this, but she could certainly buy a few more seconds. "The young man here has some unfinished business with a number of concerned parties from his homeworld. I came to take him back to say the least."

"Heh! Well, those _fracks_ are going to have to wait because he'll be **_dead_**!"

"Oh, has he caused more trouble already? He seems to have an awful bad habit of doing so from what I heard from my clients, a regular troublemaker."

"_Troublemaker_? Troublemakers' don't blow a hole through your hand and _frack_ up your day, _schutta_!"

"Perhaps 'troublemaker' is too bold of an euphemism."

"**_Shut up_**, the Earthling brat's _mine_. Drop him now or I'll send you both to the shores of _Nastrond_ - **together**."

"Are you _sure _you want me to _drop _him?"

"Urrgghhh! Forget it; throw him instead. I don't care if he split his head open on something. I saw you two both crawl out of that church like _freyurk_ worms and one of you is going to die fast if you don't do as I say, now!"

"Are you sure you want me to _throw_ him?"

"Do. It." It was a forceful command, punctuated by the humanoid mecha slamming its foot irritably into the ancient masonry with a thunderous rumble, sending another wave of tremors across the bridge.

Mentally, Maria winced. She didn't want to go "swimming" but she might not have a choice in a few moments. Taking a sidelong glance over the edge, she became aware of the rushing artificial river running beneath the bridge. Facets of a bold scheme precipitated in her thoughts as she wagered where the river emptied out. It was highly likely further into the lake while these ruins were but situated at its substantial periphery. "As you say..."

The light blue-haired young woman moved timidly, bending at the knees in preparation to hurl her charge to the ground. A gesture that earned a barely restrained gasp of glee from Norton; his arm slave was poised like a proud hunter. Soon, bloody vengeance would be his and then he could go about burning this countryside to ashes and dust.

Alas, it was not to be - not at all.

With a sudden burst of speed, Maria broke towards her right and heaved with all her might. The Rezerbian's amplified cry of dismay echoed seemingly across the horizon as a vague blue blur splashed into the rushing water, swept away in a near instant by the strength of the artificial river. Tricked! He had been tricked. His quarry squirreled out of his grasp by one meddlesome female.

Norton gave a blood-curling scream of frustration, "You _crazy schutta_! Who the _hell _do you think you're screwing with!"

"You told me to _throw _him, but you never said where," the leader Quark replied innocently, unaffected by the bruising tones of the furious man, "I did say I was a negotiator. You should've been more specific as to where you wanted the boy. I'm afraid we won't be catching him anytime soon, unless you know where this artificial river runs to...?"

"**Shut up**! You die now, _female_!" The Rezerbian war machine took a rumbling step forward menacingly, the visor lens flaring red. "No one crosses me and lives to talk about it!"

No word or thought was needed at that point; Maria knew what was coming. She turned but briefly to align herself in the direction of the starlight green giant before vaulting backwards in a single powerful back flip. A wrenching shriek of light slammed into the spot the young woman stood moments before, obliterating the masonry in a shower of debris and dust. The force of the blast caught her in mid-air, carrying her back much further than she intended.

Hot adrenaline flowed like sweet ambrosia, her countless hours of training driving the precisely controlled muscle contractions in tandem. She twirled in midair, a swirling top of white and blue, righting herself about adeptly, hair and clothes billowing outwards breathlessly. Norton could only watch with begrudging awe as Maria landed gracefully without a hitch several meters away from where she began, still holding onto Earthling brat's sword. This was no ordinary quarry he was dealing with, that's for certain.

"How's your hand, Norton?" the light blue-haired girl shouted loudly at him. Her voice bared no emotion or haughty condescension, surprisingly. There was only the same cool neutrality as before. "You missed, badly at that."

The infuriated Rezerbian was about to fire back a curt remark when a bone chilling thought struck him rigid. That female had just referred to his hand. She had mentioned his hand, _specifically_! Was she? Did she? No, it was _she_. A murderous guttural scream roared forth from the external loudspeakers, more than loud enough to shatter glass windows, as the Nousjadeul-Ger leveled its electron beam gun and squeezed off another bolt of "lightning."

Maria dodged again, flipping backwards and springing off her hands to give her the extra leverage to propel herself through the air. She landed deftly some distance away, undaunted and battle ready, still holding onto Fayt's sword. Two gaping holes in the ancient bridge's masonry now graced her path, but it was not time yet to spring the trap. Anticipating Norton's attacks were turning out to be surprisingly easy.

One minute and fifteen seconds.

It was a fact that didn't go unnoticed by the pale-skinned man. His frustration blossomed into fury. That accursed female was taunting him, baiting him on to take another shot at her. How she was avoiding the assisted-automated targeting systems of his state-of-the-art arm slave completely baffled him. She had dodged not once but twice, mocking death in the face of certain doom. It was taking all of his self-control not to fly into...

"What the?" Norton sputtered dumbfounded as he saw the female draw a weapon with her freehand. A puny blaster of some sort, it was much too small to be anti-armor weapon. She didn't honestly think she could take him down with that little thing did she?

Maria twirled her microblaster deliberately, regarding her opponent carefully. Her personal sidearm had been custom tuned personally by Chief Seiya, one of his favorite masterpieces that he fondly took pride in as the one thing she hadn't broken yet. The balance was perfect, needing only the slightest gyrations of her wrist to continue its steady revolutions, punctuated by a rhythmic whoosh of air in its wake.

Suddenly, faster than the eye could track, she gave her wrist a slight twist, the microblaster settling into her grip like a glove. The rapport, an electric ephemeral whine, was of little consequence. A bolt of crackling blue shot out at incredible speeds, slashing through the air effortlessly, and promptly did something queer beyond measure. It ricocheted - no - _veered_ hurriedly away from within meters of the arm slave as if repulsed by something.

It was a most curious discovery indeed.

"An electromagnetic shield, I'm impressed," Maria called out to Norton calmly, a trail of smoke hissing from the business end of her microblaster, "I didn't think the Rezerbians put such a high priority on the survival of its military personnel."

The pale-skinned man sneered in turn, "And just what are _you _supposed to be, _female_? A Klausian? Or some kind of _freak _experiment that should've **_rotted _**like _feyurk_ shit in the _pits_?"

Thirty seconds to go.

On the surface, the leader of Quark feigned a calm composure, but inside, a furious storm rose from the depths of her soul. The scoundrel obviously didn't have a clue about the tender subject he had just crushed so haphazardly. Only the reins of her superego held back the murderous desires of her id screaming indignantly for retribution. Her grip on Fayt's sword tightened audibly, knuckles turning a pale white, slender fingers taut around the handle; any tighter and she would surely snap the handle in half or draw blood first. She was not a **_freak_**!

"If I was a Klausian, I doubt we would be having this conversation right now."

"Heh! We'll see about that! I've just been warming up."

"So you say, but I think so otherwise."

"Shut up, what's your game, _female_? You can't dodge forever."

"What game?"

"Hehehehe, I smell a _trap_, that's what."

"Hmm, I guess there's no point in holding back anymore!" Maria announced with finality, a fierce battle cry at her lips.

Leaping onto a chipped stone railing of the bridge as she charged ahead, body bent forward at full tilt, the light blue-haired young woman focused her will, concentrating on Fayt's sword. The blade began to hum, glowing with a faint blue light. The thrill of battle fueled Maria to startling new feats of prowess, nimbly dodging the rapid burst of shrieking electron bolts big enough to swallow a car whole. Shrapnel and debris flew, the Rezerbian's mad laughter booming above the staccato of pounding footsteps and the rapidly exchanging rapports of gunfire.

The distance between them closed sharply as the young woman ran, cutting the safe margin of each shot closer than before. It was like running through an infernal gauntlet of death on a burning bridge, weaving precariously between hairbreadths of safety and sweet oblivion. Maria could feel her muscles begin to tire, the intense fatigue rapidly building as the tissue burned and ached in the lactic acid, lungs straining for more air. Silently, she feared that she might not make it, that would collapse, leading to a horrible instant, or would faint outright in her courageous charge.

But I can't turn back now, the young woman told herself with a determined scowl, the only path is forward!

Behind the rage and killing instinct, Norton's reason could scarcely believe what it saw, screaming one warning after another that this was foolishness. This female was unlike anything it had ever encountered. She ducked and weaved amidst the deadly onslaught, moving with uncanny speed that even a Klausian would have trouble matching, little more than a bluish-white blur. How could a mere sentient possibly evade the best automated targeting systems the Rezerbian military had to offer? She hadn't even used symbology, anticipating his attacks as if she knew they would happen before they even happened!

It was impossible, completely impossible.

The Earthling brat's sword, gripped tightly in her grasp, was positively shining now, like a bloody beacon. With every step the female took, it grew brighter and brighter. Though he didn't understand why, the Rezerbian knew distinctly that Death was riding fast on the heels of this girl. He could already see the pyre that was to be his funeral.

"Damn you! Why. Won't. You. Just. DIE!" Norton screamed over the loudspeakers.

The Nousjadeul-Ger abruptly leapt back, an ominous crash marking its landing a good ten meters from its original position at the edge of the bridge. Planting both feet firmly into the ground, it began to divert power hurriedly to its main weapon, a humming vortex of energy building up around the large bore plasma cannon protruding from its gut. This was it, the end game, and the Rezerbian was going to obliterate everything in his path.

Maria glowered at the light, firing desperately with her microblaster to no avail. Norton's evasive leap had set her back too far, even as she crossed the threshold onto the occupied side of the bank. She would never make it in time, still ten seconds short. Her lungs and muscles, burning with exhaustion, were on the brink of collapse, teetering dangerously on a knife-edge. They would not be able to sustain the last leg of her battle charge, and there were few options left to her.

Her body was exhausted but certainly not her mind. She racked her memories for symbology protocols or "spells," searching hurriedly for an appropriate response to her tactical situation. The light blue-haired young woman now regretted slacking off a touch in her studies. Maria had been dabbling gradually into the "art" of Symbology about a year ago, after discovering by accident of her symbological potential. Unable to find a suitable instructor due to pressing circumstances, she had been learning a few spells here and there in her spare, all of which were unfortunately useless in her predicament.

No! She refused to give up in despair. She would not die here, not like this! She had promised; promised that she would live! There had to be something more, something she hadn't thought of yet. What was it?

Suddenly, Maria knew.

"**_Angel Feather!_**" the young woman shouted, a white aura of power surrounding her as plethora of glowing white feathers exploded into the air around her. In a single majestic leap, she propelled herself into the air, higher than even the mighty Klausians could manage with their superior physiology, defying the laws of gravity.

Norton ignored the ethereal miracle in front of his eyes all together, fueled by a rage that left him deaf to his fearful perception. He roared fiercely and fired the plasma cannon simultaneously as Maria hurled Fayt's shining sword at her grudging foe. The two spearheaded columns of light shot through the air, turning day unto night in a blink of an eye, to meet each other head on in a spectacular clash of might.

The explosion! The brilliant flare of light!

"_This is_ - **THE END**!"

-

The lake was quiet, not even a leaf stirred in the lush expanse of the vast valley. Nothing moved; the once relatively peaceful world of Vanguard II stood still for a moment on a day that will forever be forgotten.

A row of blue tracers pierced the horizon with a shrill electrifying whine, dispersing from the epicenter of the fallout. A half-gloved hand erupted from a series of holes shot through packed, smooth white sand, followed shortly by a ferocious grunt. Then the other hand emerged as well, garbed identically as the first, fighting for purchase, which was no easy task as it was encumbered by a weathered microblaster still clutched tightly in its grasp. The white sand shifted, bulging upwards into the outline of a figure.

With a gasp of air, Maria Traydor emerged from the aftermath. She was harried and distraught, her eyes wild, and covered more than her fair share of soot and grime, which was a far cry from her usual stately appearance. Her face spoke upon volumes of unsaid words, but they also surely asked of one question, the most important question one would ask after surviving a miniature nuclear holocaust of sorts:

What the **_hell_ **_happened_?

The last thing she remembered was charging at Norton, realizing she had come up a few liters short of adrenaline when the scoundrel and leaped back evasively, and then... Well, there was a blank tape (about five minutes worth of it) where memories should've been yet none were to be found at all. Her only alibi was a chilling testament of the destruction around her. Whatever had happened had effectively leveled any structure above ground and shattered the remaining ancient bridges connecting one portion of the ruins to another.

Not to mention there was blast crater about fifty meters in diameter dead ahead of her, honed to a fine glass finish.

Norton. That's where I remember seeing him last, but - there's no wreckage at all, Maria thought with growing apprehension. What could've done this? Could it have been... No! That's impossible.

It was a long forgone conclusion, the only logical conclusion. Her sharp, clinical mind had already come to the realization of what her heart had just begun to grasp now when she had laid eyes upon this eerie desolation. It was not so much a _thing _that had done this unspeakable feat but more so a _person_. The light blue-haired young woman was intimately aware of just _who_ had done it.

She spat hoarsely, "I...did this."

Her soul reeled back from the gravity of those few words. Maria fervently tried to deny it for she had long told herself that it was _she_, who was in control. When her powers had first manifested themselves, she felt no fear, only an urgency to do what needed to be done. Though she only vaguely understood the "gift" that Professor Leingod had given, the young woman was confident that the _Power_ did not control _her_. It had always been that way since then, and it would remain so until her last dying breath!

Now, she found her once infallible confidence in herself - disturbed.

"Miss Maria! Are you okay?" a familiar voice roared all of a sudden.

The leader Quark found herself caught off guard with a gasp of dread. Instinctively, she brandished her microblaster defensively in a wide arc, scanning for the source of the voice and any potential. To her astonishment, there was none and instead she found herself engulfed in a confusing vortex of noise and activity. She saw then the huge shadow that encompassed her surroundings, as funneled humming jets of near-invisible motion disturbing the rushing flow of air and water. Gazing upwards, Maria saw a sight that eased her aching heart for the moment.

It was her personal ship, a state-of-the-art corvette refitted by Quark engineers, _The Swordfish II_.

"_Better late than never_, I guess..."

-

To Be Continued...

-


	4. Chapter 03

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

* * *

Fates Intertwined 

Chapter 03:

_Emotion_

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

The flames were everywhere. Time had no meaning here nor was a destination all that important either. The present, the very moment of inception (thoughtful or otherwise) was all that mattered. Here in this space between a blink and a tear, instinctive actions were far more compelling than deliberate, rational thought. 

Where am I? Fayt thought worriedly, covering his mouth and nose with a hand to ward off the choking smoke from the rampant fires. The suffocating heat alone was more than enough to set his teeth on edge, grimacing with discomfort. He was sweating far worse than a pig as far as he was concerned, and perhaps, he might as well die from being cooked alive first.

Alarm klaxons were going off all over the place, accompanied no less by a series of wall-mounted warning indicators, bathing the corridor in revolving red light. Violent tremors shook the corridor to its foundations intermittently, as if the entire structure was under attack from an orbital bombardment. Come to think of it, this scenario was awfully familiar.

The blue-haired young man's eyes widened in shock as he a glimpse of a sign on the wall identifying the hellish corridor. It read, "C12," the very same designation given to the corridor he had been in when he had lost his parents back on Hyda IV. He couldn't be back there could he? That's impossible! There were no raging fires and wreckage at all back then, so he couldn't have gone back in time.

Fayt closed his eyes, deep in thought. That's right. This has to be a dream. I just have to stay calm and I'll wake up from it.

"Fayt, help!" a familiar shrill voice cried desperately over the loud din.

Abruptly, his eyelids flew wide open. The young man gave a start, recognizing instantly the identity of the voice. He relaxed his protective hand over his mouth and noise, shouting back before he even knew it, "_Sophia_, where are you?"

"Over here! Help us, Fayt!"

Fayt followed the source of his dear friend's pleading voice as best as he could, green eyes straining bitterly against the acrid sting of smoke. Moments ago, he had told himself that this was a dream, but all rational thought had gone out the door when he heard Sophia's cry for help. He caught a glimpse of her behind a mishmash of massive debris while a dreadful pile up of burning wreckage interposed between them.

"Hang in there, Sophia. I'll be right there!"

"Forget about it, Fayt," a voice commanded, cutting the brunette off before she could reply to him.

"_Dad_? _And Mom too_!"

"It's too late. Go! Save yourself while you still can."

"_NO_! I'm not leaving you guys here. Just hold on, I'll think of some-"

"This isn't the time for arguing, Fayt!"

"Dad!"

"Just get out of here; there's nothing you can..."

"Robert, they're here," Ryoko warned her husband as she moved instinctively to shield Sophia with her own body.

"What? Ah, just as I suspected."

"Dad, what's going on? I can't see..."

"**_Run_**, Fayt! This is-"

Yes, it was a dream. He knew it was a dream, that much he had deduced. The chilling sound of Sophia's gasp of fear was a dream. His father shouting some incomprehensible as he moved to shield his wife and his son's best friend while his mother whispered soothing words, no doubt, to her was a dream. Even the terrible screams that answered the merciless cacophony of disrupter rifles were a dream. Even a senile child could tell that the bloody showers that exploded outwards in vermillion, marking the bodies of three corpses dropping, like broken dolls, was a dream.

Yes, it was a dream, a dream gone horribly wrong.

A nightmare.

* * *

The world came to him in a blistering blur of colors and light. He could feel the scars of screams in his hoarse throat, a pitiful human condition reduced into little more than choked sobs. Hot tears burned down his cheeks in rivers of sorrow, there was nothing to say, nothing to hide. Fayt had been crying in his own sleep, ambivalent to whether he should be ashamed or worse. Boys weren't supposed to cry, much less men. 

It was strange to be this way. He wasn't the one who was supposed to fall apart, always constant. Sophia had done more than enough of that he wagered for the both of them.

Where am I? Fayt thought through the haze of grief. In those six days he had spent aboard the escape pod, he honestly hadn't bothered to grieve at all for his own loss. The young man had refused stubbornly the possibility that any horrible thing could've happened to his dear friend or his oft-aloof parents. They were good people, a fact he would unabashedly avouch. Who could possibly want to hurt them?

Suddenly, as the haze lifted, he became aware of - something else. His ears perked, entranced by a strange yet familiar sound, a child's lullaby. The words were old, ancient perhaps, but most certainly older than him; its meaning was lost to himself, having only vague memories of his early childhood. Had his own mother even sung lullabies to him? He couldn't remember.

However, the melody was a different matter. It was a vivid beautiful sound, undulating like the crashing waves upon a sandy white beach, yet oddly melancholy at the same time. Fayt knew, for certain, that he had heard it somewhere before, an elusive memory right at the tip of his tongue. He grasped at it determinedly, trying to put feelings into words, but it escaped all the same.

Where had he heard it before? Who was singing it?

It was then he became aware of other things, a silken curtain of light blue, almost violet, shielding him. Something warm enveloped him in a cradle, warm and supple, from the horrors of the world. An alluring scent of vitality and permanence, something feminine he was certain, eased his troubles away. He felt safe, genuinely safe, like a child in the arms of his mother. To be honest, it was a foreign, yet not unwelcome feeling; he wasn't even sure if anyone had ever embraced him in such a way, expressing so much without a word.

An unspoken testament, this person had promised him, as surely as the sun would rise at dawn and set at dusk, that she would protect him. She would always be with him, no matter how far and wide the distance between them. It was a strange promise no doubt. They were strangers, certainly, but he was bound to her as much as she was bound to him and nothing could change that, nothing.

Who was she though? Even Sophia had never the courage to do such a thing so bold for all her amiable charm.

"It's all right, Fayt. You're safe now," _she_ spoke reassuringly for his ears only, "As long as I have the power, I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, I promise."

That voice? It couldn't be her!

He felt himself being eased back onto something soft, a bed - a _real_ bed with a modern mattress that automatically conformed to his body for maximum comfort, climate controlled comforters, and an ergonomic pillow too. It was a bit of shock to be back in a modern bed so soon, meaning he couldn't have been back on Vanguard III. He must've been rescued, but by who? His curious green eyes traveled upwards and met face to face with those clear noble eyes of an all too familiar shade of blue.

"It's you!" Fayt cried in surprise.

His mysterious rescuer nodded, moving unperturbed to delicately brush away the few tears that still clung to the corners of his eyes with her thumbs. It was a characteristically tender gesture. She herself didn't seem to notice, while it stunned him nearly speechless.

"Yes, we meet again, and most certainly - yes, we're aboard a ship, specifically my ship, _The Swordfish II_."

"W-Who..._who _are you?"

"Traydor, Maria Traydor. You're welcome to call me Maria, if you wish."

"Uh, well, I'm...I'm-"

"Fayt Leingod. You're the only son of _the _universal authority on symbological genetics, the famed Professor Robert Leingod. You were born on Earth, currently nineteen years of age. Your favorite sport is basketball, favored position: point guard. You're studying in the Symbological Sciences Department of Brachtein Science University. You're not particularly an ideal scholar, instead preferring physical activity to academic study, which has earned you the coveted Most Valuable Player award at the collegiate Universal Basketball competition. Your favorite food is-"

"Whoa, wait! How do you know all of this about me?"

"I believe it would surprise you as to how much information is available on the Universal Netsphere, the ongoing war between privacy advocates and free information that began in the twenty-first century never truly ended with any certainty."

"A-Are you - are you some kind of _hacker_?"

"Its a tool of the trade, used for ill or good. Sentient beings have to decide for themselves how to use that power. As for myself, I used it only to familiarize myself with you."

"So you're not here to - _kill_ me?"

"Fayt, I had plenty of opportunities before now. Rescuing you only to kill you later would've achieved no ends."

"Why...why are you here?"

"I would be lying if I said it was purely out of Samaritan motivations. A client of mine wishes to meet you. She's very anxious to speak with you on many things, such as your father's research and much more."

"Me? What's so important about me? And what about Dad's _research_?"

"Those are things I'm not at liberty to disclose. She did assure me, however, that she would do everything in her power to reunite you back with your family," Maria assured him calmly, as if she was stating a matter of fact.

Fayt closed his eyes, allowing the pent up tension in his rigid muscles to ease away, deep in thought. It was a whole new set of intrigues to absorb and ruminate over, which really didn't help matters. Who was this mysterious client that Maria talked about? What was this suspicion concerning his father's research? Did this client of hers truly mean to reunite him with his family - _all_ of his family? Better yet, who was Maria Traydor really?

That girl knew an awful lot about him, even if she implied it was strictly part of her business. However, it didn't comfort him anymore so. Knowing only discomforted him more! That realization made things rather _awkward_, to say the least; maybe it was too good to be true that somebody would come out of nowhere and risk his or her life for no apparent good reason, in spite of the odds, for another. There was always a motive apparently, and he wanted to feed his fledgling resentment for her but that didn't sit right with him either.

Maria's actions and words were completely contradictory to another. On one hand she appeared to care considerably about his welfare, much more than he could adequately understand at present, but on the other hand, she was the model intermediary, all business and never giving away more than she had to, just enough to earn his trust. It was all very confusing indeed. There was no doubt in his mind that Maria Traydor was a convoluted riddle of the likes he had never encountered until now.

She was most _definitely_ way out of his league.

Fayt opened his eyes once more to scrutinize his enigmatic hostess and rescuer, only to be caught dumbstruck a few seconds later. She had _changed_, quite literally. Gone was her usual stately, yet functional garb in favor of something purely casual: a utility khaki vest, an untucked white sleeveless blouse, a pair of comfortable blue jeans, and hiking-style sandals. Her luxurious, silken tresses were tied back into a single ponytail by a white ribbon, while she left her long bangs unattended to create a rather - _cute _- effect.

Combined with the bedside manner she had taken to sitting on the edge of his bed beside him, Maria gave off a very, very _appealing_ presence. It was as if she had transformed into the fabled "Girl-Next-Door" that many a guy (and some gals no doubt) fantasized about so often. The kicker, though, was that the light blue-haired girl probably didn't even realize the effect she was having on her charge, who abruptly felt the urge to look elsewhere, a coloration of red blossoming on his cheeks.

Maria, on the other hand, read the signs completely wrong for once, "Fayt, is something the matter?" She reached out tentatively to touch his forehead to check his temperature, and to her amazement, he was positively burning up. "No, did you catch a fever? Do you feel another symptoms such as fatigue, aches in your joints, and..."

"Gyah! I-I'm - okay, really, Maria!" the young man squeaked in a peculiarly uncharacteristic manner. It was enough to draw her well-meaning solicitous hands away as she sat with mild astonishment. Maria hadn't known that he was capable of even squeaking in such a - _boyish_ manner.

"...I see."

Fayt burned with embarrassment at his childish outburst. This girl was completely different from any other gal he had ever met. Sophia had never put him on the spot like this! Sure, the light blue-haired young woman wasn't quite as eccentric as say Peppita Rosetti. There was an innocent touch of naivety in her behavior towards him and it totally threw him off; he didn't know whether he was supposed to be angry or flattered that she was showering him with such attention.

As for Maria, she was clueless as to just what was causing the bright flush of red that now adorned his face. Could this be a symptom of a rare native disease from Vanguard III? How fascinating; she had never seen symptoms that would exert such a bizarre emotional response.

"Ah, ummm, about that song earlier," the green-eyed young man spoke up abruptly in awkward tone of voice.

She blinked, snapping out of her ruminations. "A song?"

"Yeah, that lullaby you were singing."

"A _lullaby_..."

"It was - _nice_. I...I really don't remember - its, uhhh, been a long time since - I'm not even sure if I've ever had a lullaby sung to me, but..._thanks_, Maria."

"You're..." she paused, "...You're welcome, Fayt."

For once, the "Princess of Serenity" found herself taken aback. Fayt's compliment felt so - sudden. Maria couldn't even recall singing the lullaby he mentioned. All she remembered was arriving in the infirmary, finding tossing about like a mad man screaming at the top of his lungs, and at that point it was a blur. Vaguely, she could recall embracing him, whispering soothing words to the wildly thrashing young man in an effort to calm him down, but there were no specifics. Oh dear, now she was starting to feel flushed; she hoped she hadn't become infected as well!

"Hey, umm, _Maria_," Fayt asked her tentatively, still unused to addressing his rescuer by her first name, "What happened?"

The meaningful inquiry was a welcomed distraction, easing the leader of Quark back into waters she was much more used to navigating with great expertise. "'_What_ _happened_?'"

"I don't remember anything after you told me to drop to the floor back in the Church."

"Ah, I see. The trauma must've been even more severe than my original prognosis at the time."

"Trauma?"

"You went into a kind of a catatonic seizure after we barely managed to survive the plasma cannon discharge."

"Fayt, its nothing to be ashamed of. It's not uncommon among '_rookies_' to have a breakdown the first time they go into real combat, especially among civilians who had no prior battle experience against other sentients."

"Hmm..."

"He's dead, Fayt."

"Norton!"

"There wasn't much of a choice in the matter. The man was madder than a rabid _kath-hound_. If I hadn't acted, you -along with every other sentient being within a ten kilometer radius would've surely died."

"Fayt?"

"You killed him, didn't you?"

An inquiry into the death of the rogue Rezerbian was not unexpected. She had been preparing herself well ahead of time for when the moment came upon her.

"I was prepared to do what was necessary, Fayt. If I hadn't stopped him, many more lives could've been lost needlessly because of our neglect."

"I know, Maria..."

"But?"

"I just don't feel right justifying his _execution_ at your..._our_ hands."

"I think you were right earlier when you said that we had no jurisdiction whatsoever on this world or him for that matter. I just don't know how I should feel right now. Who knows - maybe the people of this world really should've been the ones to decide his sentence, not us."

"Hmm - Fayt, can you stand?" Maria asked him thoughtfully. She stood up from her place on the bed and came up right beside him with surprising swiftness. "There's something you need to see."

The sudden change of topic and the grave look in her eyes was enough to unnerve Fayt a notch. Whatever the light blue-haired young woman wanted to show him, it wasn't going to be pleasant. On reflex, he tried to move his body, the brain and heart coaxing muscles to work, and to his ambivalence, everything was working just fine. It was as if he had never gotten a scratch at all. He didn't know whether he should be jumping for joy or trying to break something new to put off this dreadful pang in the pit of his stomach.

It was to no big surprise that he tried to get out of bed as casually as possible, setting aside the comforter, and swinging his legs gingerly over the side. Cold shivers shot up his spine, like ephemeral lightning, replaced quickly by a feeling of warmth permeating up from the climate controlled tiles on the floor through his bare feet.

Wait a second, his bare feet?

For a brief moment, Fayt entertained the all too mortifying thought that he had just stood up completely butt naked in front of a girl. Way to go, _Genius_! Even as understanding as she could be, Sophia would've slapped him silly into next week while shrieking some unintelligible expression of female indignation (or appraisal). However, a quick glance revealed that he was still clothed very much indeed in his modest clothes, earning himself a silent sigh relief.

Maria had already strolled over to a nearby observation window and was eyeing him with a most expectant gaze, while he had been busy debating his modesty. Feeling a touch foolish, the young man hurried over to her.

"What is it?"

"See for yourself." She gestured towards the observation window.

Thus, he looked - and barely restrained the urge to fall flat on his rear. Eyes wide-open, Fayt could only stare in awe of the destruction below him. The bandit hideout was gone! All those ancient structures had been flattened, brushed aside like autumn's leaves in the cold wind, and the bridges that once weaved passage throughout the ruins were no more. They, too, had joined the rest of the masonry, submerged deep into the rushing waters of the exposed aqueducts that flushed out into the lake. The desolate landscape spoke volumes upon what had happened, especially the large glassy crater near a former bridge archway that shined brightly in the noonday sun.

"That crater..." the blue-haired young man murmured. Something felt out of place about it. No ordinary weapon, portable enough to be wielded by a single person at least, could've caused it, and the last time he checked, Vanguard III wasn't exactly the bastion of modern civilization so that ruled out any kind of Vanguardian secret weapon.

Wait a second, he was - _they_ were flying! He was on board a ship!

"Maria, did you..."

"No, antimatter missiles don't cause anywhere near that much blast damage, not to mention the a typical weapon's battle data and the current evidence are incompatible."

"Well...what about Quantum weapons?"

"There wouldn't be anything left of the ruins after one atmospheric-use quantum missile, except perhaps some steam."

"Steam?"

"The residue Creation energy would raise temperatures significantly, although I suspect most of it comes out as plasma at first, before cooling down into a gaseous state. Hence, steam from the evaporating waters of the lake."

Fayt shook his head, a touch confounded. He wasn't much of a contemporary weapon's expert and honestly had little love for the vehicles of war. "But you have this ship! You used it against Norton, didn't you?"

"Eight didn't arrive in time. I was forced to improvise and deal with him personally."

"But - But that's _crazy_, Maria. I saw the blaster pistol you were using and you don't look like a symbologist at all to me. Besides, the amount will and energy you would need to use for a spell that strong and still stay in control would be enormous."

"It wasn't symbology, Fayt," the young woman told him flatly.

A sudden silence enraptured the infirmary. The normally warm, comfortable climate controlled air was eerily cold to the touch as Fayt stood speechless, his green eyes transfixed. Surely, Maria wasn't implying that she done all of that alone did she? That didn't make any sense at all. How could one person have that much power?

"You're not saying..." he began tentatively, backing up a step. It was now that he saw his hostess in all too new light, a repulsive silver of fear worming its way into his heart. Oddly, Fayt didn't feel comfortable around this girl anymore, a person he had gone from feeling slightly resentful towards to somewhat respectful of; now, he was afraid of her. Norton was like a little bogeyman haunting the closet compared to Maria Traydor!

Alas, he was so caught up in his own rapidly escalating panic that the young man scarcely noticed the hurt grimace in the light blue-haired girl's eyes. It was a chink in her invulnerable armor that was swiftly remedied by a mask of neutral serenity. She had expected this as well. In the case of Fayt Leingod, she had already run countless scenarios through her mind and of the possible consequences from each action, memorized and catalogued for reference. This exchange was among them, complicated a touch further that he had just been in near-death circumstances. He was easier to read than an open book, his motivations and actions, all transparent before her.

Fayt had wanted to kill Norton most certainly because he had been motivated by a righteous sense of justice, a foolhardy impetus. However, he had forgotten his ethics in the process, which she reminded him of and earned his resentment in that moment. His fearful response right now was no different, utterly predictable. He was virtually little more than an automaton around her, a thing she could manipulate at will.

Still, Maria had hoped that maybe, just maybe he wouldn't have shied away from her presence. Instead of fearing her, maybe he would've at least tolerated her. Asking him to accept her here and now was pure fantasy, an impossible dream. After all, Fayt didn't know about the truth yet, and as far as he was concerned, he was just the average Earthling stranded on an under-developed planet. Now somebody far more dangerous than his previous company had just rescued him. She could probably kill him with a look for all he knew! What a foolish boy.

Even though she was - _who _she was, she could dream, couldn't she?

"_Nicholas_!" Fayt shouted suddenly as he lunged forwards, grasping the young woman by the shoulders. He shook her sharply to her surprise, snapping Maria out of her introspection. There was a wild gleam in his eye, his breath quickening into a near hysterical rhythm. None of the apprehensive fear that had marked his demeanor before remained; it was replaced instead by worry and an intense urgency. "What about _Nicholas_? He was in the cellar of the church! I-I promised - I promised I'd come back for him!"

It was all she could do restrain herself. If the blue-haired fellow had any sense left in him, he would've been cowering in true fear at this very moment. Her body was visibly rebelling against her will, instincts and reason fighting each other in a bloody battle, as Maria trembled, her hands lifting perceptibly to do what had become an all too common survival reflex. Grimacing, she did the only she could do to regain control and bit down sharply on her lip, nearly drawing blood. A piercing shock of pain flooded her nerves, distracting her instincts long enough for her wrestle control back into her hands.

That minor crisis avoided, Maria breathed deeply, her mask of serenity settling in once more. Whether Fayt gave any notice to the lapse in her character remained to be seen, as he seemed largely occupied with the welfare of this fellow Nicholas. Counting her small blessings (and ever larger curses), she responded calmly and met his gaze head on, seemingly unruffled by his rash behavior, "Nicholas is his name, I see."

"Yes! Now where is he? What happened to Nicholas?"

"Take a look over my shoulder and see for yourself, Fayt. You weren't the only one I had to see to in the infirmary."

It was all the "encouragement" the young man needed as he all but tossed her aside, rushing swiftly to the bedside of a small figure across the way from his own bed. "Nicholas!"

"He's quite fine, that boy. I was worried about him at first considering his poor health and the unique physiology of the humanoids living on this planet. Fortunately, Norton hadn't tortured him too badly."

"_What_? He!"

"What did you think those injuries and bruises were? I suspect he tried to stand up to the Rezerbian on impulse instead of thinking things through first. If you and he had worked together, you both could've probably come up with a sufficient plan to apprehend Norton without any loss of life at all."

"Shut up! I don't - I'm...I'm!"

Fayt fell silent. His body trembling with conflicting emotion and unsaid words, as he stood beside Nicholas, apparently asleep by the steady rise and fall of the boy's chest, while Maria observed silently. It was an interesting scenario with many outcomes, many implications into the insight of his character. She already knew the highly likely outcome but still wished to see it through to the end.

Minutes passed by without a word spoken as Fayt remained at his vigil, hands balled into quivering fists. He must've wanted to say something, anything to get that weight in his heart of his chest, yet he could say nothing. There was too much to say and no words to carry his burgeoning feelings. The silence was all he could offer.

Such an emotional boy...

"You can stay by his side a little longer, if you wish, Fayt. We won't be leaving anytime soon. There're a few things my droids have to recover from the area: namely your escape pod before we leave, not to mention we'll have to return Nicholas to the village I believe you mentioned earlier. It should be plenty of time for Nicholas to properly recover in the infirmary, but he'll likely be asleep for the entire time; I gave him medication so that he could get his rest."

The blue-haired young man said nothing, acknowledging her presence with the slightest of nods directed backwards at her. Maria held back the urge to sigh and simply nodded in his direction before making towards the exit. "I'll be in the captain's quarters if want to talk to me. Eight, remember to keep an eye on Fayt too, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the ship's AI chirped enthusiastically as the door to the infirmary slid open with a hiss, giving Maria leave into the adjoining corridor.

The light blue-haired young woman strolled with ease towards the open doorway, stopping only briefly to throw a glance back at her charge. Fayt had not moved an inch from where he stood, oblivious to her presence. It was probably best to leave him to his own devices for now. Eight and the droids could certainly see to his needs while she attended to other - _important _matters.

She left.

* * *

To be Continued... 

Author Note:

If anybody notices any screwed up stylized punctuation and/or other formatting weirdness, blame QuickEdit or whatever upload software is running right now. I've wrestled with it for over an hour and now I humbly yield this time in defeat. But only this time! I'll have my revenge yet!

Reference Note:

Kudos to the fella who guessed _Farscape_ for the _colorful_ language of the late Norton, but I can say for certain that wasn't the only source of his _colorful_ language. Anyways, onto the _omake_! We need some comic relief up in here!

Omake:

"_Nicholas_!" Fayt shouted suddenly as he lunged forwards, grasping the young woman by the shoulders. He shook her sharply to her surprise, snapping Maria out of her mindful introspection. There was a wild gleam in his eye, his breath quickening into a near hysterical rhythm. None of the apprehensive fear that had marked his demeanor before remained, replaced instead by worry and an intense urgency. "What about _Nicholas_? He was in the cellar of the church! I-I promised - I promised I'd come back for him!"

It was all she could do restrain herself. If the blue-haired fellow had any sense left in him, he would've been cowering in true fear at this very moment. Her body was visibly rebelling against her will, instincts and reason fighting each other in a bloody battle, as Maria trembled, her hands lifting perceptibly to do what had become an all too common survival reflex.

"You're _mine _now, _biyatch_!" Maria snapped in a disturbing, diabolical sugary sweet voice, eyes aglow with an unholy light of pure cutey honey evilness as she grabbed a dually surprised Fayt by the wrists and kneed him in the balls.

Oh! That had to hurt.

Fayt stared flatly, slacked jawed in shock, as he gave a shrill squeak in reply, "..._Mommy_..." He was released promptly and fell into a heap on the floor, curling up into the fetal position.

Maria for all the world stood triumphant like a warrior Amazon woman over her kill, planting a foot firmly in the poor boy's rear, which elicited another pitiful squeal. She threw her head back in a roaring BITCH! (TM) laugh that would've made Naga the White Serpent proud.

"**_Oh_**-_hohohohohohohoho_! Now, you _sexy beast_, let's make some **_babies!_**"

"_Sacre bleu_!"

The following section has been removed as per for the sake of the sanity of the above readership. Please, do not pass go and collect a hentai doujinshi. Instead, enjoy this relaxing scene of beautiful fields of flowers, your magical fairy guide Peppitta Rosetti frolicking in the spring time of life - make that, Peppitta Rosetti frolicking in the spring time of life as Albel The Wicked chases after her waving his katana in the air like a mad man. Oh, and let's not forget about the massacred bodies of Innocent Woodland Creatures (TM) left in his wake of Terror (TM).

Pimp Ice Daddy Cliff "Yo Momma" Fittir says word to your mother.

Youth! Power! EXPLOSION!


	5. Chapter 04

* * *

Disclaimer:

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

* * *

Fates Intertwined

Chapter 04:

_Interlude_

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

The captain's quarters, which was inherently Maria's study, office, and personal chambers, was quite spacious compared to the modest crew quarters. Though the extra space wasn't a luxury that Quark's leader particularly appreciated, she didn't mind the adjoining bathroom and bedroom conveniently attached to her quarters. It certainly beat having to trudge on down to the communal baths that would've been shared by the rest of her "crew."

Then again, it wouldn't have really been that troublesome since her "crew" consisted of only herself, Eight, and the droids, not much "human" company to screw things up.

Her furnishings were somewhat predictably modest: a wide bureau, a comfortable chair to recline in, and an assortment of high-tech necessities that no potential galactic leader worth her (or his) two cents should not be without barring early retirement. The only real amenities present were a workbench that seemed out of place among her office's openly utilitarian decor and a smattering of personal effects, such as photos of the crew aboard the _Diplo_, herself, her amiable "Godparents," and other memorable mementos. In short, the room was an apt reflection of its very owner, on the ball and in charge.

"Yes, he's with me," Maria affirmed casually as she cradled the hand-held communicator to her ear, much like a cellular phone of yester year. "No, he doesn't know yet."

The response of the speaker was notably curious.

"He doesn't know about me, either."

The speaker was a touch suspicious of her motives.

"Don't worry, I'll tell him when the time is right. He needs some time to think right now. He He has been through many things in a very short amount of time: losing his family and childhood friend on nearly the same day, then marauded in an escape pod for a week, and finally this incident with the Rezerbian."

The speaker acquiesced. It was a perfectly legitimate concern, after all.

"Yes, I'm fine. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle, though I was surprised that the Rezerbian had an arm slave with him."

The speaker reply was solicitous.

"There's nothing to be fuss over. He's been dealt with."

The speaker inquired into her methods.

"Yes, I had to use my power to take care of him. Eight was a little too slow to provide support in time."

The speaker affirmed and asked about the plan.

"We'll meet at the coordinates for 'Action C.' It's risky but we need to get him to safety as soon as possible. I don't feel comfortable flying solo in the open with the Vendeeni still lurking about in the sector. Any news on the girl? And what about Hyda-Four?"

The speaker's reply was apologetic. Matters from the front had gone from bad to worse.

"_Captured_ - I see. To think they razed the planet to ashes just for him is disconcerting. We'll have to be more careful from now on. Our options will be limited until our contacts can provide us a lead to the whereabouts of the professor. Nonetheless, do what you can for now. I'll be seeing within the day."

The speaker bid her farewells, offering some small advice.

"_Godspeed_, Mirage," Maria replied solemnly before she ended the private, encrypted transmission. With that matter settled, the leader Quark set the communicator upon her bureau as she reached back with her free hand and pulled upon the white ribbon in her hair. A crisp rustle of cloth accompanied the deft motion that freed her long silken tresses from the ponytail she had worn, billowing outwards into a fine cape across her shoulders. "I just hope you can convince Cliff to keep his '_cool_' a little longer before he does something reckless."

Reckless.

My, oh, my, wasn't she just surrounded by rash people as of late? Perhaps, this was the universe's perverse gift to her: to put one Maria Traydor, just nineteen years old, single, in charge of an intergalactic mediating philanthropic organization that was filled with enough hot-heads and dysfunctional hack jobs to make a keg of good old fashioned trinitrotoluene (also known as TNT) _blush_. To sweeten the deal, she had never had time for any attempt at all at a normal childhood, never had a date in her entire life, certainly never had time to consider even shopping for a significant other, and her beloved organization was largely considered to be a bunch of crazy counter revolutionaries by the mainstream media. Joy.

Hence, the noticeably dim atmosphere in her quarters, created in part by not turning on the lights and having her observation windows shut completely, suited her mood perfectly.

Maria listlessly slumped back into her reclining chair, as if she were boneless, allowing the white ribbon in her hand to slip through her fingers and onto the carpeted floor. An audible sigh reverberated through the air and if someone had been unfortunate enough to see her young face then, they would've been terrified by what they saw. Her noble light blue eyes had aged, gone was that youthful spark and its place was a weathered hollowness that spoke of too many battles, too many horrors to count. In an instant, it seemed she had been visited by twenty years of wear and tear, the weary lines of age prominent in her eyes.

There was little room for doubt in her condition. She was old and lost, not that bright young woman who had lived every moment of those heartfelt nineteen years with utmost resolve, always seemingly steadfast and never wavering, in spite of the role she was thrust into by circumstances beyond her control. Maria was exhausted, an arm dangling lifelessly at the mercy of gravity and momentum while the other lay splayed across her lap, as she stared aimlessly into the black shadows. Her exhaustion though was not just in body, but in spirit as well, an ancient affliction that eventually caught up with many of her station.

Maria stood alone at the top of the mountain, the weight of the world on her shoulders, with her closest "friends" only able to stand with her, pledging their hands to her shoulders, ready to make haste at the smallest word. It was the loneliest job in the entire universe: to be a leader.

She was alone, all alone.

"I wish I could sleep, Mirage..." the light blue-haired young woman sighed with contemplative pause, "but there's still so much more to be done. Every day I wake up, having gone to sleep the night before at the summit, I only come to the same realization that in the middle of the night, somebody had come and moved the summit higher, ever higher, from right underneath my nose. It never ends, and I - I just don't want to sleep anymore."

A disembodied chiming beep echoed from the intercom speakers installed in her quarters, nudging Maria temporarily out of her lethargy. Her trained ears recognized the warm urgent note, one that her constant companion aboard her ship had always used as a secret greeting between themselves.

She forced her wasted complexion into a feeble smile by shear will. Willpower was all that kept her going now and the young woman would sooner die than give up the fight in any way, big or small.

"Yes, Eight?" Maria answered faintly.

"Miss Maria! What's wrong?" the artificial intelligence cried worriedly in her sweet childish voice suited much more for an innocent seven year old child than a warship of her considerable capacity. "My sensors are indicating all sorts of..."

"I know, I'm just...tired, that's all."

"Then you should rest, Miss Maria! Organic sentients have a very low tolerance to extended fatigue. That battle you were in just a few hours ago was completely crazy. You could've collapsed on the spot, or worse, _died_! I told you eighty-four hours, thirty-five minutes, and ten seconds ago that youneeded more rest. You're driving yourself into the ground and that's not right! Now, _please _get some rest, _pretty please_? I'll cry if you don't, and then I'll tell Mirage and Cliffy that you haven't been sleeping or eating right for the past week."

It was all Maria could do littlenot toburst into light-heartedlaughterat the antics of her well-meaning digital friend, who was positively fussing over her like an overprotective little sister (or a mother).

"Its ironic, even Mirage suggested in her own ambiguous, roundaboutway that I had better be fast asleep and snoring like a baby by the next time we meet, or she would have me strapped into a straightjacket and tied down to a bed in med-lab aboard the _Diplo_ for a month."

"Eeek!"

"**_And _**Cliff would hear about my '_silly shenanigans_.' I think we all know how **that's **going to end."

Oh yes, _every_**body** remembered the infamous _Sweet Sixteen_ Incident quite well, and it would follow all who were involved straight to the afterlife, not to mention many virgin minds who had yet to hear the _delightful_ tale. Bleagh!

"...Mirage is _scary_ when she's mad."

"I imagine about a hundred times scarier than the average Klausian matriarch of her kin family usually is, and that is quite fearsome already."

"_Gaou_... Miss Maria, please get some rest."

"I wish I could."

There was an uncomfortable silence, for a moment, exchanged between the two: human and AI alike. If anything, it was as if Eight was biting on her imaginary nails, trying to decide whether she should broach a rather tender subject.

"Miss...Maria?"

"Yes, Eight?"

"It's _him_, isn't it?"

"'_Him_'?"

"That blue-haired guy you rescued! Mister Fayt Leingod! ...it's _him_, right?"

"I'm not sure I quite follow you, Eight. Must be the fatigue, I think. Could you explain to me?"

"You're disappointed with Mister Fayt, aren't you, Maria?"

Now that wasn't something that happened every day, Eight calling her by her first name alone. It was a sure sign that she was being completely, unabashedly serious with her "big sister."

"Hmm?"

"You were hoping for so many good things, Maria; you thought Fayt was going to be your best, _**best**_ friend in the entire world! Somebody you could lean on for once; somebody you could laugh with, cry with; somebody who would accept you unconditionally because you're so much alike, but at the first sign, he already wants to run away from you. He's _afraid _of **you**, Maria, and he hasn't _even _thanked you for everything you've done for his sake!"

"Fayt has been through a lot, Eight. Whatever expectations I had of him were completely unfound. The countless simulations I had conducted personally had already proven that he's as fallible as any other well-meaning sentient. His fear is understandable. Anyone with half a sane mind would be afraid of a single individual who commands that much power. Such a being is - _unnatural_, a thing that exists outside the natural boundary of life."

"But it still **hurts**! _Doesn't it_? Doesn't **_IT_**? What about **_you_**, Maria? What about your _feelings,_ and your _suffering,_ because of **him**? Doesn't it _mean _anything at all? I don't care what you are or who made you, you're still Big Sister Maria to me, and you will _always _be, **_always_**!"

It was too late to take back what had been said, what was done was done. A tenuous line had been crossed and things would never be same again. If Eight had had real fingernails, she would've chewed straight through them in an instant. The silence was deadly. Even though she was an artificial construct, right then she was certain she felt it, a touch of bitter frost, and the temperature in the air of her captain's quarters plummeting rapidly. There was fear in the air, malice untold yet tangible.

"_Gaoou_! I'm...I'm sorry, Miss Maria!" the AI stuttered uncontrollably. "I didn't mean to shout. Th-_There_ must be something wrong with my personality matrix that's..."

Maria's answer was cool and impersonal, "Did he ask for something?"

"Oh, yes! Of course! Mister Fayt wanted to have access to the replicators in the Workshop so he could create some basic mechanical-"

"Go ahead, _permission_ _granted_."

"Yes, ma'am! Uh, um, please get some rest."

"I _will_, I'm certain," the light blue-haired young woman hissed curtly, a clear deadly sign that this conversation was over.

The intercom transmission went dead faster than the fearful, apologetic squeak that should've punctuated Eight's depart. It was honestly not her fault. The embroiled hatred was not for her in the slightest, but for another.

Maria smoldered, her purplish azure eyes like angry slits. The sound of cracking frost was audible in the rapidly cooling air, a visible white fog building up in the enclosed room. White plumes of hot breath exuded from her face openly as a low guttural growl emanated from her throat. She trembled violently all over, like a mad beast about to pounce and rend flesh from bone. Angrily, the young woman wanted to destroy something, anything, to vent her hate upon.

Spotting the blue gleam from the fiberglass case of her communicator, she lunged for it, nearly crushing the device in her iron grip. It crystallized into a block of ice almost instantaneously from her touch. The seemingly offending object in hand, Maria then gave a feral snarl and hurled the frozen communicator with all her might into the encroaching darkness, sending it whipping through the air effortlessly. A pitiful crash seared the frosty air, the device shattering into a thousand fragments, like broken glass, upon the door. It was a vain gesture against the "cruel" world for in truth the one thing, the one person she hated the most was herself.

She wept then, a river of tears for nineteen years of struggle, nineteen years of loss, and nineteen years of hollow victories; in the end, she had found no peace, no self-fulfillment in this journey. Every morning was another facet of a fatuous war that consumed the flesh and blood of the living unceasingly. Oh, the end was always in sight, it was just a question of how much more she was willing to sacrifice. Those tiny voices whispered bittersweet quick silver in her ears.

_Take them all, Maria. Do it! There's nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be sorry for; they all came along willingly in the first place. They _**know**_ the price_.

It was true. Everybody knew the price that must be paid, whether they acknowledged the fact or not, everybody knew.

_In the **End**, **you **_**will **_be **all alone **anyway._

Maria cried harder, bawling loudly like a pitiful child, hoping that tomorrow would never come.

_Mommy and Daddy would be so proud of you, Maria._

Black.

* * *

"There, that looks about right," Fayt said aloud with a satisfied smile, blissfully unaware of other troubles brewing aboard the _Swordfish II_. He stood confidently beside a workbench in the ship's superb "Workshop," a quite impressive engineering bay fitted with some of the latest manufacturing replicators and gadgetry money could buy. One could probably start a small war with the plethora of products from this modest abode. "I shouldn't have any problems making slight adjustments to these parts to fix the gearbox for Meena's music box at all, if my memory's off a little."

"Who's Miss Meena?" asked a familiar sugary voice that would've made a demon sweat bullets.

Inwardly, the young Earthling shuddered at the memory of a certain Peppita Rossetti. He had honestly only been trying to be realistic and not raise the rather enthusiastic girl's hopes too high. Of course, she went right ahead and signed his shirt anyway with a black marker (he hoped it was the washable kind), handing him and Sophia both a pair of tickets to the next show. She then indignantly declared that he would treasure his autographed shirt for the rest of his life.

The young Rossetti and Eight would've gotten along just fine.

"Well?" The AI prodded. "Is she some kind of - uhh, let's see, what would Cliffy say? - _really_, _really _nice native girl you _really _**rocked** the **house **with?"

Fayt did a double-take and banged his thigh accidentally against the hard edge of the workbench. An irritable oath erupted from his mouth before he knew it, as he limped about on foot, hopping back and forth while clutching on his tender limb. Eight laughed her collective digital self off, earning an aggravated look from the young man.

"_Hey_, that's not funny!"

A holographic avatar suddenly blipped into place in front of him, sending Fayt hurriedly jerking backwards. He nearly fell on his rear thanks to that little surprise and gave a vexed scoff at the strange angelic creature hovering in mid-air before him. Adorable white fluffy wings and a gold halo hung disembodied to an exaggerated, anime-like orange-stripped cat with a seemingly ever present grin on its face. From its red leather collar, a golden number eight dangled to complete the persona. Not a bad choice, considering Eight had an insatiable curiosity that Fayt was quickly associating with the feline creatures.

"But it is so funny too!" she giggled enthusiastically as the avatar's wings fluttered lightly, propelling it towards the blue-haired young man. "You should've seen yourself, Mister Fayt. Your face like blew up, got really red, your eyes got really, really wide... Oh, I'll have to show pictures to everybody!"

The angelic _neko_ was positively swooning, and it was taking all of Fayt's willpower not to sigh in commiseration. Enthusiastic people just didn't seem to like him much at all, or they just loved to mess with his head on purpose. Was he really that cut and dry? Sophia was always bugging him about not being outgoing enough. He ought to have been hanging out with his college friends and doing more _social _activities than spending so much time with video games.

"Look, it's not like that at all, okay?" the young man contested defensively.

"Oh, really-really?"

"Meena is Nicholas's sister and from what I gather they're both orphans now..."

"...Because of the _bad _man, right?"

"Yes, Meena and Nicholas's father along with a number of villagers were killed by _him_ when the village refused to give into his demands. They never stood a chance against our advanced technology."

"Hmm, it's sad that no matter how advance sentients become, the will to dominate other life forms still exists even now."

"Huh?"

"Oh, never mind! _Gaou_, hehehe. Just thinking aloud!"

"Okay, if you say so..."

"Don't worry your silly head over it, Mister Fayt. So what's the parts for, huh-huh?"

"Well... _Hey_, who's _silly_?"

"Nobody said anything about any _silly_ heads here, except for you."

"_Hrrghhmmnnn_! Whatever, anyway these parts are for Meena's music box. It's an old family heirloom passed down from her mother's side of the family. I don't think she's alive anymore from what I could tell, and with their dad gone, so..."

"So you're fixing it up for them! _Awwww_, that's so nice of you, Mister Fayt."

"Well, it's the least I could do. Meena was the one who found me collapsed outside the village. She and Nicholas took me in and nursed me back to health. I had no idea I was that exhausted to begin with."

"So they saved your life, right?

"Yeah."

"**_THEN WHY ARE YOU SUCH A JERK TO MARIA, YOU BIG SILLY HEAD_**?" Eight roared suddenly. The shear volume of her amplified voice was pure overkill, sending an unnerved Fayt straight to the floor on his rear, while her avatar glared menacingly at him with "the look."

Bewildered surprise perfectly suited him at that precise moment, staring dumbfounded back in return. "Wha?"

"**Mister**. **Fayt**. **Leingod**. do you have some kind of PSY-CHO-TIKU PARA-NOI-YA COM-PRE-XU?"

"Uh...well, um..."

"Do you realize that ever since you've got on this ship you have been nothing but a **_not _**very _nice_, suspicious _silly_, _silly _**bighead**? _GAOU_!"

"...I..."

The angelic cat was positively furious, shaking a righteous paw at him, as an aura of fire snapped into place around it.

"That's. No. Ex-cuse! for the way you've been behaving, MISTER! Meena and Nicholas saved you, didn't they? That's why you're planning to fix their music box, right? To thank them? Well, this isn't any different either! Miss Maria saved your life too! So what's the big deal, Mister _Leingod_?"

"I have eyes and ears too, you know! I saw what Miss Maria did to the bad man and that doesn't change a single thing to me. She's still Miss Maria. She would never use her power against other people without a good reason, **ever**! Do you _hear_ me, you _silly head_?"

Okay, that pretty much hit the nail on the head, in more ways than one. Admittedly it has been a rough couple of days, and Fayt acknowledged he had been acting somewhat paranoid. However, maybe his paranoia was sound. It was just too convenient. His expectations had wagered that it would've taken at least a month before any rescue would've come, factoring in how long it would've taken Federation investigators to analyze the encrypted data from the _Helre_'s black box.

Of course, that was assuming they even found it in the first place.

Maria's concern, her ambiguity to her intended purpose, and the mysterious client she referred to; it was all so unreal. Yes, he had wanted to be found, to be rescued, and was grateful that someone had come for him, but he had never wanted to be rescued in such an auspicious manner. This spoke ill of events in sharp contrast to his good fortune. To trust someone who had delivered his salvation wholesale on a silver platter, _deus ex machina_ come from behind the stage to rid the people of Whipple of Norton and claim two birds with one stone...

Man, what's happening to me? Fayt thought with a weary sigh, ignoring the righteous indignant angelic cat, as he closed his eyes. When did I become such a misanthrope, anyway? Mom was always saying that I should trust other people more, and even Dad said that trust is the key in any relationship. If you can give it, then you're already across a major hurdle.

So why shouldn't I believe in Maria? Eight feels pretty strongly for her, all right. She didn't have to go out of her way to take down Norton and could've just smuggled me out without a care in the world. Nicholas would still be back in Norton's dungeon _and_ that thug would still be in charge. Maria's been extremely patient with me, took care of me and Nicholas while I was out, so why shouldn't I trust her?

Heck, I should go apologize to her right now and thank her, like Eight said! So what the **_hell _**is the problem?

A string of whispers bubbled to the surface of his thoughts, strong scaly voices befitting of hissing pit vipers in a nest.

_Because she's dangerous._

_Unnatural._

_An abomination._

_No one should have that power._

_What if she's lying?_

_Betrayal._

_What if?_

_What if she's using you?_

That's insane! the young man nearly shouted as he gave a guttural snarl in an effort rid himself of these hallucinations.

_She has a **plan**._

_For you._

_For us._

_For everybody._

_Do not **trust**._

**Trust:**_ **Kills**._

Fayt shot up to his feet in a sudden frightening blur of motion. His green eyes were wide and alert, fresh blood pumping through his hot veins with a new sense of purpose. His sudden change of demeanor was enough to send Eight rushing off in an explosion of ephemeral feathers behind a workbench, poking her head tentatively over the edge to glance at him with a worried "Gaouuuuuu..." at her lips, accompanied by a visible "sweatdrop."

"Uh, Mister Fayt, are you...all right?" the AI asked him.

The young man made eye contact causing the angelic feline avatar to shrink some more, its halo drooping pathetically. He spoke in a clear voice, belying no emotion save for his determined resolution:

"Where's Maria? I'm going to see her."

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author Notes:

Okay, guys, I could got screwed by the pooch again. Many apologies in advance here if you come across some screwy punctuation and styling, I did try my best to catch them all. In the meantime, a big thank you to all you readers out there who worked up the guts to leave a review, and the homies who've stuck it outand keep coming back to drop an anvil (in other words a review)on my doorstep (_Fufufufufufufu!_), despite my bizarre twists of moods. Reviews are always appreciated 'round here, and trust me, I do very much have my eyes and ears open to you folks, especially for when I screw up big.

Peace, and look forward to the next chapter. (I promise I'm going to get them off this rock soon!)


	6. Chapter 05

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

* * *

Fates Intertwined 

Chapter 05:

_Paranoia_

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

A door. 

Why must it always be a door? Why couldn't it be a slide? An open archway? Some mystical portal that was about to warp him to a universe beyond his wildest dreams?

"It's a door..." Fayt deadpanned remarkably. His flat unenthusiastic gaze expounded upon volumes at the distinctive tension in the air. No more was he the determined, purposeful young man who was decided in his action, instead he had transformed back into Fayt Leingod, a college kid from Earth, standing in front of a door to a girl's room. Of course, it wasn't any girl's room either; this was Maria Traydor's room, a young woman whom he had been a jackass of sorts to since the moment he met her in the dark dungeon of a self-professed bandit king.

The resolution of coming to see her was easy enough. A "no brainer." He'd stroll on in, sit down, make some small talk if he could, cut to the chase, apologize for being a silly paranoid idiot, laugh it off, and be on his way. Alas, things were never quite that simple, and it was all thanks to one unwitting door putting the brakes on his "grand" designs. In actuality, a door commands considerable powers of etiquette, able to communicate a wide variety of words and feelings at will. One simply didn't go barging up to a door and start wailing away at it with all their might, while shouting at the top of their lungs, if they wanted to have a solemn heart-to-heart talk.

Hence, Fayt's dilemma.

"Man, what am I doing? Just knock on the door. Nothing wrong about knocking on somebody's door first before going in," the blue-haired young man murmured. Eight had already adjusted the sensors on the door to Maria's quarters so that they'd allow him passage into her abode with as simple as tap on the control panel.

He lifted up his right hand, turning it about face into a clenched fist, and drew a deep breath. It was a simple action: knock three times, let her know you were coming in, and then voila, he'd be in. Just three knocks, so he drew his hand back and...

Fayt jerked back in mid-knock, just as he was about to follow through with his light rap upon the door with his knuckles. The Earthling shook his head in dismay; he couldn't do it. He honestly didn't have the guts to face Maria right now. Whatever determination he had previously had eroded the moment he stood at this uncompromising doorway of metal in the well-lit corridor, accompanied by the constant ambient hum of the climate control systems. He didn't even understand why he was faltering now.

The young man sighed, turning his back to the door as he slouched sullenly. I'm always like this, he thought, I'd work up the courage to do something and suddenly I'd fold up right at the finish line. No wonder I could never ask any other girl, besides Sophia, to go hang out with me.

He could always try again later.

Resigned to his poor showing, Fayt moved to leave when the door promptly slid open with a hiss, expelling a blast of frosty white fog. The young Earthling yelped in surprise, leaping swiftly to the side with a hand clapped over the back of his neck. "What the?"

He stared in wonder as the white clingy mass delved onto the floor, a permeable sheet of white, before finally dissipating into thin air. The doorway to Maria's quarters was open, an inviting darkness that bid him enter at will. There was nothing to be afraid of, just a little dark. Of course, one had to wonder why all the lights were off.

Without much of a choice, Fayt stepped on in and up to the plate.

* * *

"Mari..." the young man stopped short as he felt an audible breaking noise, not so unlike glass, from underneath his feet. Looking down to inspect the damage, he was silently grateful he had replicated a new pair of shoes before waltzing in. Those sharp shards from a broken device, probably a communicator, would not have been pleasant to his bare feet. 

From the corner of his eye, he spied his broken perpetrator none too far, lying discarded in a broken heap on the floor next to a wall, still fresh with a mark from the point of impact. Maria must've had one heck of a strong throwing arm to put a dent into the composite alloy that made up these fabricated walls. Worst yet, she must've been pretty angry to have done such a thing too.

Fayt steadied his nerves and took another measured step into the dark room. The cool air was leaving goose bumps all across his exposed as fresh condensation clung to nearly ever surface available, giving off eerie glimmers from the light streaming through the open doorway. He could even see his own warm breath coming out in white puffs of cooling moisture and gas. It was cold, much too cold to be a setting that any sane person would ask the climate in their rooms set to, not to mention the lack of any lighting at all.

What she had been up to, the blue-haired young man wondered, rubbing his arms with his hands to generate some friction to warm them up. He supposed it was a small blessing that he could make out somewhat where all the furniture and walls were in the room. "Maria? Are you..."

The door hissed to life, sealing the doorway shut before he even realized from behind him. Fayt drowned into a black pitch. His sense of direction gone, he nearly panicked, but managed to hold firm by a single desire. He was here to talk to Maria, and with the door so "conveniently" out of the way now, he wasn't going to leave until he had spoken to her. The topic of discussion was still open to debate, but he hoped he would leave on better terms with the mysterious young woman.

He gave his eyes several minutes to adjust to what meager light was available in the room. To his fortune the still glimmering condensation on surfaces and furniture, though now a faint hint, gave him a vague outline to plot a course through the dark abode. Fayt stepped gingerly about, instinctively feeling his way through the cold darkness, until he came upon a large mass. A little bit of feeling around confirmed it was a sizeable bureau, meaning...

"Maria?" Fayt called out again, hoping for a response. "**Hey**, are you all right?"

It was then that power restored itself (somewhat); a single light flickered awake from an extendable lamp that propped itself upright from within the bureau. The dim illumination revealed startling things indeed.Frost; it was everywhere, extending well beyond the tiny sphere of visibility available to the young man. What surprised him more was the willowy figured slumped against the chair behind the wide bureau.

Fayt was breathless, a heartless horror crushing his courage underfoot in a sudden stampede. He stumbled around the bureau towards the chair, ignoring the bitter cold that had so afflicted him previously, hoping against all odds that he was not too late. The faint light gasped and died, leaving him fumbling alone in the claustrophobic darkness.

She couldn't be... She had survived so much worse with less than a scratch. How could this have happened? What was he supposed to do?

In that stark moment, the young man realized that he would be completely lost without the guidance of his enigmatic host. Her death would've caused only more grief and sorrow, taking whatever answers she possessed straight to the grave with her. Fayt could not afford to lose Maria Traydor now; she was his only hope, the only sure chance he had of finding his parents and Sophia again, that much was certain. She could not die now. He needed her here beside him, despite whatever misgivings he had of her. Maria just had to be alive!

Fayt wrestled with the darkness, floundering helplessly until he grabbed a hold of the chair, the smooth texture of its leathery fabric cool to the touch, and turned it forcibly to face him. This close, so intimately close, he could see the outlines of a feminine figure slumped limply in the leather chair, an unmoving cadaver that breathed no more and bared no discernable scent. He seethed in dismay, shaking his head in disbelief, for this was surely some kind of perverse absurdity. The Earthling boy would not accept, and could not accept this sick insinuation as truth. He had to be certain.

With a trembling hand, he reached out, brushing past the curtain of silken hair that left cold shivers against him, to touch the base of her throat. His brain instantly recognized the warmth of Maria's skin in contrast to his frigid limbs, an incomprehensible event that shouldn't have been possible, but here it was, happening right in front of him. Curious, Fayt traced his fingers across delicate skin and pressed gently down against an artery, feeling for a pulse.

It was a miracle, a revelation, all of his previous fears and doubts washed away in a cleansing flood of relief, the grave weight upon his shoulders lifting. The young man sighed, his lips curling into a warm grateful smile, for thank goodness that Maria Traydor was alive and well. He didn't know what heart rending act had transpired in her quarters and would've certainly liked to know the answers to the many questions that bubbled freshly in his thought, but for now, it was enough that everything was going to be just fine.

The presence of lit glow, drawing his shadow against the wall, piqued Fayt's interest as he abruptly heard a door hissing open from behind him. Glancing around, he saw the dimly glowing panel above an open doorway that lead to another room. Power must've been fluctuating again through the grid, a keen reminder of his strange, eerie surroundings and another simple fact:

He was freezing!

* * *

As prudently as he could, the blue-haired Earthling bent down at the knees and hefted the apparently unconscious young woman into his arms (making a note not to grab anything "important"). He was surprised by how light she was, a feather that reminded very much of the few times he had carried Sophia. Old nostalgic memories of day gone by that had only seemed like yesterday threatened to overwhelm him, but he remained steadfast, reminded in part by the subtle nuances of touch and substance that Maria was not the same girl who he had grown up together with. Lithe and strong, it was not so much that he was carrying a person, more so a slumbering jungle cat that made the amiable brown-haired girl pale in comparison. 

Fayt moved in careful measured steps, trying his best not to disturb his companion in the slightest, as he entered into the adjoining room. He didn't know if it was just his imagination or not, but he could've sworn that the unconscious young woman in his arms curled closer against him, sending a wave of ecstatic ambivalence all at once up his spine. Again, it reminded him of similar feelings he had around Sophia, memories that he tried his best to bottle up for now. He could think about them more, later.

A lamp on Maria's bed stand flicked faintly to life, guiding Fayt's course explicably towards it. The hiss of her bedroom's door closing shut was the furthest thing from the young man's mind, as he aptly set about tucking his companion into bed, a familiar process that had been done many times for Sophia. How strange it was that no matter how things changed, he always ended up taking care of someone else, inevitably so.

There, that ought to keep her a little warmer than me at least, Fayt affirmed to himself with a nod at his handiwork.

Having cleared the dual-layers of blankets and comforters out of the way, the enigmatic young woman appeared to him a princess from a fairy tale, a Sleeping Beauty or Snow White perhaps. With her graceful silken locks arrayed about her, Fayt couldn't help but idly wonder if **_he _**was perhaps some kind of wandering knight in shining armor, as he redrew the bundle of blankets and comforters over her slumbering form into a fine sheet. Suddenly he froze with a disturbing jerk, the taut muscles in his exposed limbs flexing tensely, green eyes wide with shock.

Did he just insinuate what he thought he had insinuated? Maria Traydor, a princess from some fantasy kingdom, and he, Fayt Leingod, youthful knight extraordinaire, with a master's degree in trouble, who has come to spring her ladyship from her enthralling prison with none other than a suitor...err, lover's kiss? If a certain Rezerbian were still alive, who would've howled with mirth, and promptly declared in the snidest voice he could muster:

"**Get the _frack_ out of here**!"

Great, now he was having delusions about a dead murderer and a currently incapacitated young woman. How noble of me... Fayt thought disgustedly with shake his head. He quickly resumed settling in Maria for the probable night and would've left suitably so, if something else - _unexpected_ - hadn't happened.

His eyes piqued with curiosity, perceiving a detail upon that lovely face that seemed out of place, gleaming faintly in the light. The young Earthling bent down on his knees to take better advantage of the limited illumination, and the sight that greeted his eyes neatly took his breath away.

Fayt murmured in a voice no more than the whisper of zephyrs in the fall, "Why? Why are you crying, Maria?"

Not once had the thought ever crossed his mind, kneeling then in the soft solemn ambience of her bedroom, did the idea that Maria Traydor could cry, much less in her sleep. In her waking moments, she had seemed constant, a resolute seamark that hardly paid heed to the change in tide and time, her path decided long ago. She was, well, strong. Fayt didn't know anybody else who could compare to her, even his mother and father didn't carry that same mantle of strength that she bore on her shoulder, but here she was, nonetheless, crying in her sleep.

He felt his heart twinge, an emotive twist that curled his complexion into a concern frown. Compelled by a sudden surge of empathy, the young man reached out with a tentative hand, a shadow trembling visibly over the slumbering young woman. The silvery trails glistened in the dim light, vivid tears of stardust, beautiful and sad at once. Did he dare brush those tears away from her face? Truly now he felt something strange building between them, a palpable tension in the wicked air that electrified flesh and blood unto life. That shimmering thread of fateful crimson, to which the heart turned a blind eye, interwove itself into a binding perpetual weave of infinity, ordaining of a bond which shall be, will be, and always be, ever more.

* * *

_Fool._

_Blind as a cat._

_Deaf as a rat._

_**Trapped**!_

_Can you not see?_

_Do not **trust**._

_Remember!_

**Trust:**_ **Kills**._

* * *

The din was overwhelming, a raging hurricane of voices crying out all at once that spoke of ill tidings and things that punished the barriers around his mind savagely. The wanted **in**, and they wanted in _now_. He didn't understand them at all. What were they, who were they, so many questions to which Fayt had no answers. Vainly, he tried to ignore them, tried to move his body in some way to shake him out of this "hallucinogenic trance" that he had slipped into without knowing. What was happening to him? 

The young man gritted his teeth, a glistening sheen of sweat building itself upon his grim visage, as he fought for control of his trembling body. He could see smoky trails of vapor rising from his own skin, simmer with a raging inner fire that evaporating any moisture that came into contact with him. Fayt seethed visibly with a viper's hiss from his lips, green eyes shadowed with outrage:

"_Damn it_! _Get_. _Out_. _Of_. _My head_!"

Abruptly, the cacophony of voices stopped. Fayt found himself released from his inner struggle with a barely contained gasp, his body jerking violently aside of its own accord and onto the floor with a muffled thud. He was hyperventilating horribly, breaths in stilted gasps, and pupils dilating uncontrollably, as his brain hurriedly fired off a series of "kill signals" and calming hormones to stabilize the sudden trauma. A faint white glow enveloped the helpless Earthling briefly as a haze of steaming white vapors rose off his still form, immobile and uncomprehending.

When sensation returned, Fayt felt a tug at the edge of his mind, a persistent tug that grew more insistent by the second. He rose eerily to his knees in a single fluid action, as if he were a puppet being pulled along by invisible strings, hovering silently over Maria's undisturbed form. Green eyes studied her beautiful face intently, drinking in every last detail and committing them to memory, right down to the trail of glistening tears that still flowed without fail. Her cool, serene expression was clear of a person well beyond anything in this world, drifting away in the tides of dreams.

The corners of Fayt's lips twitched, the contours of his face twisting into a grotesque sneer. His mad eyes gleamed in the dim light as his hands quivered by side in anticipation, waiting only for a singular thought.

**_Kill her_**.

Quick hands throttled Maria by the throat, nails digging sharply inwards to flesh and drawing crimson life, a lion's suffocating kill. The young woman reared back upon the mattress, forcefully shoved down by Fayt's full weight on, her mouth agape in a silent scream. Hands and limbs flailed about wildly in a frenzy as Maria struggled vainly against her invisible attacker, she was falling deeper into her dark slumber that would soon be eternal, her blood cut off by the immense grip of vice-like hands. Raw liberated emotions flashed upon her tear streaked face: Rage. Loathing. Determination. Frustration. Disbelief. Fear. Hate. Despair. Hysteria.

Peace.

Maria stopped struggling to live, the embroiled muscles ceased in a single shocking motion, her body sighing, relaxing beneath the deathly embrace of death. A curtain of azure tresses, her own silken hair, became unto the likeness of a shroud for the dead, but it did not hide anything at all, bearing the serene face of the young woman openly, tears and all. She was smiling, a rare joyful smile that seldom graced her features, as if to thank Fayt for releasing her from this mortal coil. It was a world that she would soon depart into eternal night.

Her heart warmed, and for a single moment, she lifted her right hand to his face, a tender, gentle caress that spoke of a loving fondness that went beyond all known convention.

_I want to see them_. 

_I want to see them, so much_.

_Mommy_.

_Daddy_.

_Kill me, please kill me_...

...**_Fayt_**.

Suddenly, the young man lurched back, a shrill violated scream at the tops of his lungs. He flailed about erratically on the floor, clawing at his face with bloodied finger tips, like a wounded animal stricken with some unholy poison. To be touched by the soul of another, to know their deepest, darkest desires, even for an ephemeral moment was not a pleasant experience free of consequences. His sense of self fading fast, Fayt continued his pained convulsions on the floor, all the while Maria slept blissfully unawares of his feverish screaming that grew louder with each passing moment.

And it went on, and on, and on...

* * *

When Fayt came to his senses, he felt - _tired_, although that was likely too fair an euphemism for propriety's sake. He was laid out on the metal floor, cool to the touch against his lukewarm cheek, in a heap of limbs, face down. All that was missing was the pool of blood intended to mark the scene of a murder, but instead he was actually quite well, ignoring the numbing stings he felt all over his face and arms.

"What the hell happened?" the young man mumbled crudely, struggling to keep his eyes opened.

He wanted to fall asleep right there, but his logic demanded "bloody satisfaction," that is to know the root of the cause to his current condition. Slowly, Fayt reached out with his will, trying to cajole his lethargic muscles to action. An eerie convulsion rippled through his from, misfiring nerves and all no doubt, that earned a look of displeasure. Repeatedly he tried to coax his body to no avail for several harsh minutes until at last a he felt a connection with right leg, his ankle twisting aside some. Fayt grinned and promptly set about regaining mastery over his other limbs.

It wasn't well until half an hour later that he finally managed to crawl up against the opposing wall in the empty corridor, propping himself upright. He wasn't exhausted anymore, but he wasn't exactly fit to "go take on the world," so to speak, either. Now that he was more or less comfortable as is, it was time to take stock of his situation.

First, a quick look of his surroundings...

**The Door**.

Fayt blanched visibly, pupils widening in recognition. The gears in his memories turned in an effort to recall what would spark such a fearful reaction when a shrill cry burst from his agape lips. He clutched sharply at his face and temple with his hands as an insane shriek of horror tore through his skull. Desperately, the young wished to tear his own face out, fingers pressing alarmingly against the protests of his reddening flesh, so he could reach at his brain and mash it into a gory pulp. The pain, it was coming from an ugly scar that carved a black abyss across mind where nothing existed then, empty shots in roll of film, memories purged forcibly from consciousness.

What secrets that held, Fayt would never know, but perhaps, it was better not to have thought of such things. There were far more terrible things right in front of his eyes.

Blood.

_Fresh_ blood that hadn't even fully dried out into a hard, caked mass was all over his hands. With a yelp, he thrust them away from his person, and he could scarcely contain his dark terror as he stared at his bloodied arms that ran slick with primal crimson. Hardly did he even notice the bleeding gouges in his face. There were brand new lacerations and scrapes all over his once fair skin in increasing severity, the wounds far different from anything he had ever seen. Was it wild animal that had done this to him with its claws?

Fayt gasped when he realized the source of it all, Wait, these are fingernails! _Human_ fingernails! Which means...

A trail of smeared blood spanned the cold unfeeling floor between him and Maria's door, horrified green eyes riveted to the spot. He couldn't believe it so he shut his eyes closed, denying the grim memories of their power as best as he could manage, balling his bloodied hands into shaking fists.

**No**.

It wasn't _real_.

It wasn't **_real_**!

This wasn't happening, could not happen to him! He couldn't have... He couldn't have done... The blood. The blood! It had to be fake, wasn't it? Yes, it had to be some kind of practical joke. The gaping lapse in his memory was nothing serious at all. Everybody forgets stuff, just like him too, right? ...Why, this was nothing more but a silly dream! All he had to do was count back from ten, open his eyes and he'd wake right up.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fayt's eyes flew wide open on command to witness the blood-stained testament of Truth.

It was _real_, **all**_ real_.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

A'ight, I'd like to thank all of you folks for the reviews out there, helps a joe remember he needs to get things done so he doesn't get run out of town by an angry mob waving pitch forks and burning torches, if you know what I mean. I take my feedback with both the good and the bad, so don't hesitate to holler up. Also, yes; it does get better than this; and yes, if there's a screw up somewhere I humbly apologize for the inconvenience. (I'm technically running a one-man show here, after all.)

Peace out, and look forward to the future. (The Great CLIFF! FITTIR! makes his return at last! Huzzah!)

Now onto the omake! We're way over my angst quota for the day.

Omake:

When sensation returned, Fayt felt a tug at the edge of his mind, a persistent tug that grew more insistent by the second. He rose eerily to his knees in a single fluid action, as if he were a puppet being pulled along by invisible strings, hovering silently over Maria's undisturbed form. Green eyes studied her beautiful face intently, drinking in every last detail and committing them to memory, right down to the trail of glistening tears that still flowed without fail. Her cool, serene expression was clear of a person well beyond anything in this world, drifting away in the tides of dreams.

The corners of Fayt's lips twitched, the contours of his face twisting into a grotesque sneer. His mad eyes gleamed in the dim light as his hands quivered by side in anticipation, waiting only for a singular thought.

**_Kill her_**.

Just then the door to Maria's bedroom busted down with a shriek of metal, flooding the room with blinding light. The blue-haired villain hissed in aggravation, shielding his sensitive eyes from the glare. Alas, for his chance to do great villainy had been dashed, but who dares to interrupt? Who has the balls of iron fortitude (or shear _El Presidente-_grade oftestosterone-induced stupidity) to challenge his fiendish scheming?

"CAN IT BE?" Fayt cackled in a rousing voice, rising to his feet.

"Pimp Jedi Master Artiste of All Ye Hatez," Level 35 Soldijah, Cliff Fitter waltzed through the door and dropped kick "Baron Arch-Nerdy Protagonist Nemesis" Fayt straight on his roodie pooh you-know-what.

"_**Aie**_!"

"Hold 'dat! Da Cliff iz in da house, forrizzle schizzle, _Baron Arch-Nerdy_!" Cliff declared heroically with all the pomp and flair he could muster, flashing his million dollar baby smile that literally flashed with a tangible lens flare.

Ting!

"Argh, me eyes! Curse thee, _Pimp Jedi Master Artiste of All Ye Hatez_; if thee hath not meddle where the meddle did not meddle, the wench would chucketh wood in Seven-Eleven!"

"Say _wha-at_?"

"I resent thee!"

The self-proclaimed Ebonics hero laughed mightily, his teeth flashing even brighter as he struck a manly pose, pumping his chest outwards proudly. "Yo that's ill but it ain't no big deal in da bling-bling, boomshakala, up da heasey! Now step aside, we gotta battle for da shorty, _Arch-Nerdy_."

"_Avast_! Have at thee!" Fayt shouted indignantly, striking a villainous pose with his fly unzipped, hands fanning out into a broad delta, as a dramatic wind rustled through his super shiny helicopter-whipping hair.

"On the count of '_Let's Rock_!'"

"First Duel..."

"...HEAVEN! or HELL..."

"...LET'S _RAWK_ DA HIZZ-OUSE!"

The following section has been removed as per for the sake of the sanity of the above readership due to potential shounen-ai luvluv-titude that might result in extreme blood loss or a sudden disastrous brain aneurism. Please, do not pass go and collect a hormone crazed fanboy or fangirl. Instead, enjoy this relaxing scene of beautiful fields of flowers with your magical soldier of LOVE (TM) Nel Zelpher fighting the good fight and defending all that is _RUV-RY_ _desu_ with her _MOE-E!_ sidekick Keroberos las Clair. (I'm...too cute, I'm too cute for the drive-thruuuu!) Oh, and let's not forget about Albel "The Wicked" dancing the Macarena with Lord Luther, hand in hand, hip to hip, skirt to pants, in the PASSIONATE Sunset (TM)!

Youth! POWAA! (And thank God, I missed that team building meeting!) EXPLOSION!


	7. Chapter 06

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

* * *

Fates Intertwined 

Chapter 06:

_A Promise_

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Nightmares are the stuff of dreams, twisted by the human imagination as a reflection (perhaps) of an individual's sub-consciousness. What may lay there, no fashionable researcher has yet to unravel those secrets for the surgical scrutiny of modern science. For all the miraculous space age technology available today that had rendered the very concept of a "Doctor" nearly obsolete, scientists could still not breach the sacred sanctuary of the sentient soul. Admittedly it was frail and easily manipulated by sentient hands or even mere dreams. 

That night the _Swordfish II_ left the lush world of Vanguard III into the cold, black depths of space, a suffocating air of anxiety and dread hanging over its few crew. Not a word had been exchanged since they had departed, jumping to gravitic warp with all due haste. The stealthy trek back to the village of Whipple had been done in solemn silence, much in the same as the eventual infiltration aided by active camouflage that rendered the Earthlings invisible to the eye, with a drugged Nicholas in tow. Meena had been overjoyed to see her brother alive well and soon fell asleep peacefully by his bed side, murmuring of happier times perhaps.

They would've left sooner, if the young man hadn't insisted they remain behind a little longer. He had a small favor to repay, after all. An amiable lullaby, the notes of sweet tinkling bells, soothed the slumbering household as the pair of "aliens" left the premises under the cover of night. Whatever good feelings that Fayt and Maria might've held in their hearts from the tearful reunion between those two children was left in that house as well.

The trek "home," back to the _Swordfish II_, was the beginning of the end.

Remarkably, they were like a duo of world weary adventurers, each to their own anguish. Fayt intermittently shot darting glances at his light blue-haired companion, though unwilling to meet her gaze, he was eerily drawn to the high collar of her typical garb. He wanted to see her throat and simultaneously he did not want to see the truth at all. Even with the adaptive artificial epidermis nanospray that had nicely blended in with the natural tone of his skin, erasing the scars that would've been left had he let his wounds heal normally, he could still feel _them_ all over his arms, hands, and face. They had become haunting phantom scars that would never leave his consciousness.

Maria was just as perturbed. Waking up in the evening to find blood splashed upon her throat, which feeling rather sore, marred by a series of dark purpled bruises and bleeding shallow punctures wasn't her idea of a restful slumber. Someone had tried to kill her, but who? Eight would've surely detained him or her and then alerted Maria to the intruder. None of it happened, and when she asked, the AI was positively bawling at the mere sight of her, much mothering and pampering ensued promptly before the leader of Quark could even work her way out of the infirmary. Without a lead, all she could do was file her fears away and brood about something else: Norton.

It wasn't the scoundrel's death that worried or anything in that macabre manner; it was the how and the why. Back then in the bandit hideout, Maria had spoken his name instinctively without a single thought, covering her surprise with a veiled half-truth. How had she known about him? All she was the Rezerbian about to shoot Fayt...

Fayt.

There was something wrong with him, that much she was certain, as she stood alone in the grand, expressive confines of the _Swordfish II_'s bridge. A broad breathtaking panorama of shooting stars greeted her through the nearly uninterrupted view, recreated by the inconceivable data being poured in from the ship's plethora of sensors. It was an expansive optical illusion she oft-appreciated not only for its tactile value but also its beauty, a commodity that was rare even today.

She had tried to broach the subject of Norton tactfully to him, but he only shied away from her presence even more. His dilating green eyes were always seemingly riveted to her throat, which she had dressed properly with the appropriate first aid and bandages underneath her clothes, every time she turned around to face him. Leingod looked far worse than the last time she had seen him, and it left a bittersweet taste in her mouth that grew ever deeper the more she thought about it. He was ashen faced, pale to the bone, like a man who had seen a ghost, haunted by something he dare not say, always fidgeting and clutching at his hands and arms.

If there was ever anyone guiltier of a...

"**NO**!" Maria shouted abruptly with great vehemence in her voice, slamming a clenched fist down upon the arm rest of the pilot's chair with a deafening boom. Her violet-hued light blue eyes were ablaze with a frightening anger that she rarely ever as she shuddered visibly in a barely restrained rage, an aura of glowing energy manifesting about her person. "I won't accept this,** _I won't_**!"

Fayt was different! He would never...

A cold disembodied voice rasped a harsh whisper for her ears only:

_Liar_.

Maria gasped, a single razor edged word cutting her down to the knees in an instant, laced with the double-edged elixir of - **truth**. Her hold on her raging powers slackened, the aura of power disintegrating into nothing, as the young woman struggled to keep herself from collapsing utterly onto the floor in a helpless sweet. A rough sheen of sweat was evident on her feverish complexion, once angry eyes shuddering with panicked anguish. The truth hurt more than anything she could've ever fathomed because she _knew_...knew that Fayt had tried to kill her and failed.

She would've shed tears then, if only she had any left to give, save for a hollow emptiness that echoed the gaping black chasm in her heart.

* * *

A day; there were seconds upon minutes, minutes upon hours, and twenty four hours in a day. 

He sighed loathingly at the reflection.

How long had he been staring at this cruel caricature of himself in this full-length mirror that he himself had asked to be created? Who was this man, this pale, sallow-faced creature that gazed back with hollow, haggard eyes, haunted by brutal wraiths behind those glassy shards of green? Who was he, or was he even a man anymore? What were these scars that ran with red on hands, arms, and face? Whose blood was it, his or **_hers_**?

Who am I? _What _am I? Fayt asked himself helpless as he gazed unto the mirror, transfixed by the grim shell of a human being that **_was _**Fayt Leingod. He couldn't recognize this person anymore, and he could hardly fathom what he was doing in this body. It just wasn't his anymore.

A miniscule voice, distant yet close all at once, in the back of his head had other ideas in mind, however. It smashed itself doggedly upon the faceless gates of ignorance that guarded the sanctum of the blue-haired young man's soul, blood and ashes splattering upon the soiled surface. The gates were invincible at this time, infallible, but that could not last forever as a word from its lips slipped through the cracks left by the acidic life blood that flowed through the voice's veins.

_Denial_.

Fayt shuddered under the punishing gravity of that word. It was true, of course, because all he had been doing for the past day, since they had left Vanguard III, was to lie in denial about what had transpired. No words could properly define his experiences over the past two days. Ever since his rescue by the enigmatic Maria Traydor, strange and unnatural things had been happening to him. He had been perfectly normal young man, or so Fayt hoped, before meeting her and all of sudden, he was having hallucinations, hearing voices, and a long list of other disturbing phenomena that made no sense what so ever.

And I tried to murder - _someone_ -in cold blood, without even a reason. I just...I just wanted to kill _her_, the young man thought to himself as he examined his quivering hands once again. It was starting to become his habit to ring his hands restlessly, checking for anymore blood and grime that had escaped his notice earlier.

Why did he do it? Why did he want to kill the only person who seemed to genuinely care about him under his circumstances by strangling her to death in her sleep no less? The Earthling boy had already long come to a conclusion many hours ago; the truth, however, just tended to take some time to travel to the present. Then again, it could've just been denial all along.

"A monster," Fayt said in a listless tone, the pupils of his eyes growing into hollow black pools of nothingness, "That's right, I'm a _monster_. Only a monster could kill without provocation, without any good reason at all."

Lulled by the sweet ambrosia of guilt, the young man sank deeper into the grave depression that ate away at his soul. He had been there in her room; the aching scar in his memories that still bled with frenzied madness was proof. If only he could prove his guilt! They had to believe him; they just had to - but why wasn't there any proof, no evidence except for what had long been erased by himself? Oh, he was a fool, a miserably stark raving mad fool. They'd lock him away in a mental institute or put him on medication the moment he confessed! Would there be no justice for him?

"_Gaou_, Mister Fayt, what's wrong with you? Why won't you talk to me?" Eight's avatar materialized, this time a miniscule fairy of light that danced miserably about his face. "Something happened, _didn't it_? **_Didn't it_**?"

"Yes, something terrible."

"Tell me, Mister Fayt! Tell me what happened! I...I don't think you're a monster. You're a-a...a _good _person! Why else would Miss Maria want you to be her friend?"

A good person? Friend? The blue-haired young man laughed darkly in contempt of such foreign words, his self-image forever shattered. A monster wasn't a friend! A monster wasn't even a person, much less good or bad! He had tried to murder Maria, dammit, another human being just like that! How much simpler did it have to be?

"Didn't you _see _on your sensors?" If Fayt had ever doubted that an artificial construct couldn't show anger, he was about to be proven quite wrong at this time.

"**_GAOU_**! I've told you again and again that there's _nothing _on my security system's audio, visual, or anything, period! I've checked them again and again, and all I see is you going in and then you leaving Miss Maria's room **exactly **five minutes and thirty-three seconds after you went in. There's nothing, nothing at all, Mister Fayt. All I saw is you stumbling into the infirmary like you had just been attacked by some wild animal and a bunch blood samples that make **no sense at _all_**! _Gaou_, it's giving me a headache just thinking about it."

Computer's can get headaches too? Wow, when will wonders of the newest "New Century" cease, huh?

"Please, Mister Fayt; please, talk to me," Eight spoke suddenly in a sad poignant voice that made his heart bleed red.

Reluctantly, Fayt raised his gaze to meet the new presence that had summoned him. Gone was the whimsical angelic cat or the persistent fairy of light that had mothered and cajoled the cast iron cage that bound his mental cell for the past day, she had come to meet him in person, or as close as an artificial consciousness could, considering she had been there all along. This interstellar ship, the _Swordfish II_, was Eight's body. Wherever he went she was already there, in the floors, in the walls, in every terminal, in every bulkhead; she was breathing life into he and Maria, sustaining this delicate biosphere with the minutest of calculations and by the nanosecond adjustments.

There she stood, the sacred representation of herself that expressed an incomprehensible attention to detail, a little girl of no more than eight or nine years old that stood only as high as Fayt's waist. Every facet of this being of light radiated warmth that surely could've only been love right down to her baby blue eyes, the sunny auburn tresses that spilled to her waist, framed by the sleeveless white sundress upon her healthy skin. She was a beautiful child; even the most miserable creature in the world would acknowledge this simple fact.

Right before it tore her throat out, the young man thought bitterly with a cold somber expression on his haggard, restless face. "What?"

"_Etou_, so what do you - think, Mister Fayt?" the little girl replied shyly, staring at her bare feet as she fidgeted with the folds of her white sundress.

She was certainly hurt by the metallic bite in his voice, but she couldn't falter now. Something wasn't just wrong with the Leingod boy but with Maria too. Her big sister had come in with wounds on her throat and a healthy smattering of blood and bruises as well, the blood samples being just as unidentifiable. Gladly would she trade all the sophisticated lifeblood of machines and state-of-the-art electronics to be frail flesh and blood, a human being. Maybe that way she could better understand what it was that plagued her few, yet precious companions.

"About what?"

"I usually don't let anybody see this at all, even at parties or my birthday."

Now, the slight curiosity within his caged soul stirred. Fayt had never even considered that an artificial intelligence could care enough to consider a birthday party. "_Birthday_?"

"Yes, I was born four years ago to this day when Miss Maria was just fourteen. We've been keeping track ever since; in fact, I'll be five years old tomorrow!"

"I see...you must be close."

"Of course, Maria's my big, bi-iiiiig sister! ...But you know, you're the first person to see me like this - _anou_ - so I-I, well, I trust you, Fayt."

"So please, please talk to me! I-I...I need to know what's happened. I don't know; I just don't know anything at all. I'm...I'm _scared_, Fayt. I don't know what to do. I feel like..."

An A.I. could feel fear? What the?

"You're _afraid_?"

"Y-Yes, it's illegal, I know, but Maria wanted me to be as real as any other real person, so - so that's the way I am."

Great, here was an A.I. without an emotion suppressor matrix built-in. That very act must've broken several federal codes under the Artificial Life Protection Act. Will wonders ever cease with the enigmatic Maria Traydor?

"...So what do you feel?"

"I'm - I feel like I'm losing both Maria and you. Something's changed. You're - _different_; Maria's _different_ too."

"Is she?"

Eight said nothing, and for a moment, her pure blue eyes a clear reflection of the black storm of anguish raging within. Right then, the Earthling had to admire how "real" it felt to be in the presence of this holographic representation of the ship's artificial intelligence that was honestly no different from another "human" being. Maria has certainly done an amazing job raising her.

Wait a second, did I just think what I _thought _I thought? Fayt deliberated in mild astonishment, taking a step back from the iron bars of his mental cage. His mood shifted from its former depression into a more scientific mode of thought that felt old and dusty, but thankfully familiar. Another sentient _raising_ an AI? That's a novel idea. I'd never even thought about it that way before. Sure, you can program plenty of sub-routines and other emotive matrixes into its human interface protocols, but to be perfectly honest, they're really just kids. Maybe I should see about taking a class in AI Theory when I get back to BSU.

There was a spark in his green eyes then, a spark of life that colored his pallid, ashen flesh ever so slightly. Perhaps it was a glimmer of his former self, the Fayt Leingod before this terrible incident, but it was also a clear opportunity that Eight recognized within an inconceivable trillionth of a degree. Her positronic brain was screaming an unceasing litany of ethics violations clear across her circuits that what she was about to do was wrong, was selfish, and she should be shut down for maintenance right away. On the other hand, her intangible "heart" in this cold body of state of the art avionics, the best ship-grade AAA hulls, bristling with enough hidden weaponry to make a destroyer-class jealous never felt more alive.

She had her doubts... Well, now, wasn't that an absurd thought? A _computer _washaving doubts? It was all she could do not to burst into tears and laugh with joy. Maybe she had caught the same bizarre malady as the rest of her human crew, a wicked phenomenon that festered mania and weakness in the hearts of sentients. However, Eight was determined to do something about the inevitable, perhaps even alter the course of events to come. She had seen...a _vision_. It was impossible, of course; computers can't possibly have precognitive powers and nor could they hallucinate either.

What she proposed was a most contemptible covenant, but she had to keep Maria and Fayt together, somehow. Her heart had nearly broken, or at least she thought the sudden rupture of several circuit breakers blowing out in her mainframe had been the equivalent of the human analogy, when she was confronted by what was to come. There was no way to tell when it would happen or why it would happen, but she had seen enough. Eight was certain she would never live to discover what had transpired, her remaining time numbered by the hour. It saddened her to know she would be leaving so soon; nonetheless, she would do her best for the well-being of her precious friends.

"Fayt, can you promise me something, a covenant?" she spoke earnestly, snapping the young man suddenly out of reverie. The light in his face was fading fast, but the spark in his green eyes still held, at least for a moment longer. "Promise me this, Fayt Leingod, that you'll take care of Maria Traydor. ...Please promise me that everything will be all right - when I'm gone."

Fayt lurched back in surprise, tumbling off the bench he had been sitting upon in a blur of flailing limbs. His paling face was a mask of unspeakable fear and dread as he rapidly backpedaled away into a wall with a loud bang, speaking in near incoherent gibberish. "WHA-WHA? W-What are you talking about, Eight?"

"Please, promise me! Swear it!" the avatar begged him, tears coming to her anguished filled depths of blue. Her voice was breaking, straining beneath the great burden that came crashing down on her shoulders. "I-I don't think I'll get a chance to show this to her..."

"_H-Huh_?"

Suddenly, a deadening shiver illuminated his thoughts: shock. It was pure and uncomprehending shock that set his green eyes ablaze with inexplicable emotion. If anything he would've wished for the blissful sleep granted by a phase blaster straight between the eyes right then. Of course, it was not to be; no, most certainly not. _She _was - _she _was - she was _holding _his hands; those small beautiful hands that glowed with the vitality of her own skin. He could _feel_, unerringly,the flesh and blood that was warm and supple to the touch. Eight was _real_! But how? That's impossible; it had to be a joke. He had to be hallucinating again, or was it...

"A _miracle_," Fayt breathed in a whisper of wonder, as if he were afraid the sound of his own voice would dispel the magic of this moment.

She smiled. "This body was a gift, Fayt, from the UMN for my fifth birthday."

"The _U-M-N_, you mean the 'Net?"

"Yes."

"But that's-!"

"Shhhh, no need to worry your silly little head over it. It's just like you said, 'A _miracle_.' And just maybe - maybe I'm just getting worked up over nothing..."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"_Gaou_, my birthday's tomorrow, silly head."

Fayt blinked.

"Oh...I-I...I see." Now, the Earthling began to understand the significance of the honor that had been bestowed upon him.

"You know, I think I'm just just worrying too much! Isn't that right? _Teeheehee_. Everything will be just fine right, Fayt? All we need is a little time and everything will be the same again. '_Right as rain_,' like Cliffy says. Everyone'll be so happy together again."

"Eight," the young man raised his voice. He didn't like where this was going one bit. She just couldn't be serious! I have to tell her that she's making a big mistake! I can't be trusted around Maria. What if - what if I tried to kill her again? It was me, dammit! Who else? It was me.

"But, Fayt, promise me..."

"Eight, I..."

"Please, Fayt, promise me... I've already said everything that needs to be said. You'll..." Eight croaked, swallowing back the broiling flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Was this what it was like to really be human; to feel pain and loss? Her hands were - were shaking. Was this what it was like to say goodbye? Why did it have to be to him? Why couldn't I say goodbye to Maria myself? No! No, I can't think like that. Nothing b-bad...is going to happen...to any of us! I'll - I'll do my best, so nothing will happen!

"...Y-You'll ta-take care of _Miss _Ma-ria, really good, won't you?"

Blue eyes met green eyes and Fayt Leingod's fate was sealed. He couldn't pull away from them, was powerless before that earnest gaze. Those were not the eyes of the living but the damned; beautiful eyes that would be among his many nightmares to come. The AI truly did know she was going to die. Death; what an absurd "human" concept to apply to an artificial intelligence, a computer program made to imitate sentient life.

Damn it all to hell.

"I promise, Eight."

"Do you swear to act with whatever power vested within, or you shall ever gain, for Maria's sake?"

"Yes, I swear. _She _- she had already promised me, probably long before we ever met, that she would do the same - for my sake."

"Thank you."

The being of light then performed another feat worthy of a miracle. She hugged him, much to Fayt's surprise. Conscious physical contact was something - he had not been expecting ever since the incident. He had convinced himself quite a while ago that he was a monster, a would-be murderer that deserved no sympathy or tender emotion. Nonetheless, here he was being hugged by a "person" who was as tangible as Ma...yes, Sophia; flesh and blood, warm. Would his precious childhood friend ever look him in the eye again, when she found out about the truth?

"Oh, _anou_, by the way," Eight giggled with a touch self-depreciating humor as she pulled away from his side. She wore a warming smile, trying her best to mask the crystalline tears in her baby blue eyes that sparkled in the light. "She wants to see you on the bridge, Mister Fayt."

The blue-haired young man met her gaze sullenly, but knew that there was no retreat left for him now. He was now oath bound to face what he feared the most and would have to confront it. "The bridge."

"Yes, we'll be dropping out of gravitic warp in five," the AI informed him, nodding knowingly, "Cliffy and Misty M are going to be there too, so - we'll be home soon."

"_Home_, huh?" he murmured in resignation. Maybe it wasn't too late to tell Eight. At least, she deserved to know...

Fayt rose uneasily, determined to speak the truth, when his eyes caught an enthralling gleam of gold that silenced his thoughts. An exquisite necklace, adorned with a small golden plate of some alien material that was glowing alive with an intravenous complex pattern of veins and sigils on its rectangular body, was hanging around the auburn-haired girl's neck by a silvery chain. The plate radiated with a kind of ethereal essence that he had never encountered previously, and oddly, he could feel his previous worries ebbing away. In fact, all the blue-haired young man wanted to do was go meet Maria on the bridge; he was already running late anyway.

"Is something wrong, Fayt?" Eight asked, unawares of his interest in her strange necklace.

He shook his head. "No, I'll be going now."

And Fayt did just that, leaving the workshop at a steady, yet strangely eerie pace.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

A'ight, guys, I'd like to apologize for the "longness" and shear angst of this chapter. Originally, I was going to do an action chapter (finally), but - well - one thing lead to another...so yeah. Anyways, many thanks to the reviewers and readers alike, and remember my homies, I take my feedback with the good and the bad, so don't hesitate to holler. I'd also like to apologize if there's some grammatical, style, or some shiz-nit-hit-the-fan screw up.

Oh, and Guv'nor Tristan Amaryllis, a big "_doumo arigato_, Mister Roboto!" for raising up the yellow flags on me. To be honest, I haven't finished the game or even come close to the point of recruiting Albel into my party, so I wouldn't know about that facet of Fayt's personality or how he reacts in Disc 2. In fact, I still don't know how I was supposed to have recruited Adray or Roger before the "Escort the Queen of Aquaria" story arc occurs. My characterizations are solely based upon experiences through the heroes' adventures for the most of Disc 1, the little snippets I catch from the online community, and my own little bit of magic. Yes, I put out the AU marker way back in the beginning, in all honesty, for _many _good reasons, sir.

(Cue the "Mr. Nice Guy" Pose (TM)!)

Peace out, and look forward to the next chapter, guys! (And really I promise we'll get back to the fighting!)


	8. Chapter 07

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Disclaimer:

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

* * *

Fates Intertwined

Chapter 07:

The Battle of the Caribbean Fields

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Asteroid fields are _absolutely_ wonderful places to be, although one should certainly never tell a determined and potentially megalomaniacal smuggler his or her odds of successfully navigating through one while under fire from pursuing federal interceptor-class fighters. In particular, they are beloved by Hollywood producers and space opera romantics everywhere as the archetypical fictional device to convey a tale's most frenetic, high octane space battles, chase scenes, and vice-versa, all in the name of good drama and record sales. "Professional" space pirates and persons of other ill and shady repute, however, will likely laugh scornfully at the slightest suggestion of any of the situations listed above. Nobody in their sane mind would willingly want to cruise through an asteroid field at top speed while in the middle of a fire fight with pursuit fighters or rival gangs; just trying to get around at "normal" speeds was hard enough, thank you very much.

Of course, they always did make a good place to set the mood for a shady transaction, or if somebody really wanted to make it clear that they did not want to be disturbed and left well enough alone to their own devices. Fighting **_in_** an asteroid field just wasn't done. Asteroid fields, though a risky alternative to more well-known federal shipping lanes, were gateways of commerce. People did all sorts of business there from the slave trade all the way to the mundane shipments of toilet paper. Yes, some people honestly just can't live without that biodegradable stuff, irregardless of the century, and some folks actually opted to _live_ out there in the middle of the "wilderness," in relative seclusion, so to speak.

Fighting _outside_ an asteroid field, however, was all in good clean fun.

A flash of vibrant blue marked the _Swordfish II_'s arrival into normal space, rapidly decelerating to such a degree where the ship's entire length appeared to elongate briefly before assuming its original form. She glided gracefully forward, aided by her primary aft sub-light engines that were illuminated by the white hot exhaust blazing out from each massive vectored nozzle, as the ring-like gravitic warp array folded snugly into the rear engine block. The _Swordfish II_ would likely never win any awards for aesthetic beauty. Her utilitarian corvette-class hull was several centuries old to be honest marked by a smooth rectangular fuselage that began in an angular nose region at the fore section and ended in a conventional engine block in the aft section. In a way, it was like watching a "Classical" age skyscraper sailing through space, with a row of "windows" and other amenities dotting its sides at preset intervals, while she presented her staid colors of gunmetal grey.

She was pretty much totally unremarkable, easily forgettable, and exactly the way Maria liked it.

"We've arrived in the vicinity of Caribbean Field-Seven in Federation administrated space, sector Heifon-Three," Eight's voice announced over the speakers in a crisp professional delivery. It was certainly a big change from the A.I.'s "usual" gaiety enthusiasm. "No abnormalities detected in the Gravitic Warp Core. Diagnostics reports all systems green. Sensors detect no threats in the area. Querying the United Mundus Network now for the latest asteroid field navigation charts."

Seated comfortably in the navigator's seat beside the pilot's station, or perhaps more appropriately, the captain's station, Fayt could only stare in wonder at the perfect synergy between, well, _woman_ and _machine_. He had been on his fair share of interstellar vessels and space worthy craft in his time, mostly civilian passenger liners, shuttles, and one military transport-class ship, but they all paled in comparison to the amazing interplay of efficiency between just Maria and Eight. Five minutes had been all that he needed to realize that the _Swordfish_ _II_ was no small wonder. Already the ship's A.I. had received the latest asteroid field navigation charts and was implementing the data accordingly with the flight path the captain had plotted into the navigation systems. They were to advance from their current position to the rendezvous point by creeping through the edges of the asteroid field, criss-crossing stealthily amongst the ancient rock to avoid undue attention.

"Keep the sensors on passive sweep on an interval of every ten seconds to minimize our signature; engines at twenty-five percent," the light blue-haired young woman finished, dismissing the array of holographic displays with a wave of her hand.

Eight happily obliged with a giggle, "_Liiiiii_-ght's out! 'Low Power' mode engaged."

The symphony of electronic beeps and chirps on the bridge promptly ebbed, giving way to the ambling hum of the ambient life support systems. Lights dimmed down to the bare necessities on the lit consoles, enveloping the bridge in the enthralling darkness that sparkled with countless stars through the massive all-encompassing panoramic monitors that composed the walls. If one didn't know any better, the Swordfish II's bridge was a magical breathtaking observatory at the local planetarium. All the while, a plethora of unessential systems were being shut down throughout the ship to minimize the amount of electronic "noise" it gave off. It was all a calculated tactical decision as the corvette waded carefully into the forbidding asteroid field with its gigantic occupants that could smash a destroyer-class to pieces in a single collision.

Fayt, on the other hand, was occupied with other things. Immediately, he felt the sudden weightless sensation in the pit of his stomach, followed by barely restrained nausea. The disorienting feeling caused by the nearly limitless view he had of the sea of stars wasn't helping either, and the young Earthling was forced to slam his eyes shut, clamping down on his arm rests with his bare hands. He concentrated as best as he could not to sick up and empty the contents of his stomach, while the restraints on his chair descended gradually.

"There, it's all up to her now," Maria murmured, settling easily back into a comfortable position as the restraints on her chair came down with a protective hiss. Idly, she brushed aside some of her billowing tresses to clear when she noticed Fayt's "predicament." Zero gravity sickness, though not an uncommon affliction, the symptoms were something she was intimately familiar with for good reasons.

She was about to advise him on an easy remedy, opening her mouth as to speak, when she promptly clamped her mouth shut with a frown. For perhaps the first time, the proud leader of Quark turned aside a blind eye, leaning back casually into seat. There was deep ugly wound festering in her heart, bubbling with sickness and hate. Little voices, imps and devils whispered and cackled mockingly in her ears. It was - _irritating_; oh, but not to worry, she fully intended to keep her promise. Let it be well-known that Maria Traydor never went back on her words...

_Even to the worst of scum, dearest_?

_No, fuufuufuufuu, to the **best **of scum is more fitting, don't you think?_

...It's nothing to be concerned about. He'll get over it soon enough, the young woman thought nonchalantly, sinking deeper into her melancholy brooding. Maybe... Maybe this is the _Beginning_...

* * *

The better part of the hour was spent very much so in ambient silence. With his preoccupation, Fayt could scarcely contemplate the meaning of this silence, as the _Swordfish II_ crept through the shadows of the massive asteroids that dwarfed its size. Unawares of the ill storm clouds gathering at his own front door step, or more bluntly, just a couple of feet beside him, his recovery was marked then by a gradual shift in momentum. The ship had come to a full stop.

"We've arrived," Maria announced seemingly to no one in particular, and perhaps, out of simple habit. "Begin the countdown: T-minus five minutes. Mark."

On cue a holographic display appeared in the unobtrusively in the space between with a countdown timer ticking off the minutes, seconds, and milliseconds in short order. The corvette had come to a rest in the shadow of another gargantuan asteroid with a clear way to advance into free space at will, but they could just as easily slink back and retreat into the asteroid field.

Curious as to what her intentions were, Fayt turned his head about to ask and promptly shut his mouth when he felt the invasive wave of barely restrained apathy bite him in the face. He winced as if struck by a physical blow, knowing fully well now where he stood with the captain. Maria had come to terms, at least it appeared so, with recent events. Her actions when they had been hiking back from the village of Whipple on Vanguard III had spoken of mixed feelings, uncertainty.

She _knows_ **and** she _hates _me all the more for it, the blue-haired young man thought in stark realization. I might as well have done myself a favor by telling Eight the truth before I made that - _promise_ - and locked myself away in the brig, not that it's going to do me any good now. For all I know, this could've been what she had wanted all along, even if I hadn't done what I did. I - how am I supposed to talk to _her _like this? How are you supposed to talk to someone you just tried to murder, consciously or not, in their sleep? It just isn't done! I should be in a cell right now talking to a lawyer or something, not sitting here in the same room with the _victim_.

What will she say? What will she do? Those were but a few of the many unknowns that plagued his fearful heart. With any luck, Maria would do him a favor and just empty his brains across the panorama of space. She ought to have been a good enough shot to be able to pull that off. Alas, someone had to make the first move, and apparently, they would have to make do with the would-be _murderer_ first.

"Maria?" Fayt whispered tentatively, shrinking away from the dark outline of the young woman's figure sitting in the captain's chair.

"Yes, Fayt?" she replied automatically, not attempting to make eye contact in the slightest. Her gaze was riveted elsewhere on the countdown timer's subdued orange numbers. Two minutes had already elapsed and still there was no sign of the _Diplo_. Cliff was running late as usual.

"How - why are we stopping?"

_Nice work; you completely evaded the big question. Coward._

"This is the rendezvous point my client designated. The five minutes is the maximum safe window we have to make contact before we have to reschedule and meet at a different rendezvous point in approximately three days."

"Three days?"

"Yes, it's only prudent to assume something unexpected would've tied her up."

"Oh, so - why the five minutes?"

"A healthy paranoia comes with the territory, Fayt."

"'_A healthy paranoia_'?"

"_Sub-contractors_ such as myself have a tendency, according to the old Earthling expression, '_to get the short end of the stick_,' that is. We're viewed at times as _perishable_ assets."

"Oh..." he paused, biting his lip in consternation, "...um, h-how long has it been?"

Maria would've replied had something else not interrupted first. A mild-mannered alarm went off as warning lights came online, bathing the bridge in a moody red. The ship had just gone into "DEFCON 3" thanks to an unidentified gravity distortion just one hundred "clicks" ahead of their position. Punctually, a magnified display panel of the unknown craft brushed aside the countdown timer to give the captain and her companion. It was alien design unlike anything they had ever seen before, and through quick deduction, it was fairly safe to say it was of Vendeeni origin.

"An unmanned reconnaissance probe capable of FTL travel, the Vendeeni are just full of surprises, aren't they?" the light blue-haired young woman mused, mildly impressed by this display of technological might and its tactical implications. "I didn't they would've already made it this far out since Hyda-Four. The Galactic Federation must be in worse shape than I estimated previously to have allowed their enemy to penetrate twenty sectors in from the frontlines, after just nine days of fighting. They must've lost at least thirty worlds to the Vendeeni, all burned to ashes if Hyda-Four Or could this be part of a stealthy assault force that had slipped its way past the front?"

Though glad for the timely distraction, Fayt was more horrified by the chilling objective analysis his companion was giving out aloud. How could she be so calm at a time like this? Steeling himself, he joined the fray with his own voice, springing to life once more with its familiar righteous altruism.

"That's not important right now. We have to warn somebody about what's happening here!"

"I'd have to agree. We stand to gain nothing by sitting here idly. That probe alone has already ruined our rendezvous with my client by its presence in the area."

"Is _she _on the way to meet us, along with uh, _Cliffy _and _Misty M_? Eight said something that you, well, _we_ would be _home_ soon."

"Did she now?"

"Yeah, isn't there something we can do to warn them?"

"I'm afraid not. There only three possible reasons the recon probe hasn't detected us yet: One, we're beyond its sensor range or not visible to its foreign sensor systems yet. Two, due to a lack of electronic noise we're giving off currently, our low power outputs, and the slight interference being generated by the Caribbean Field's asteroids, it has yet to consider us a threat. Three, the worst-case scenario, it already knows we're here and has sent back an encoded transmission back to the Vendeeni advance fleet."

They had a minute and thirty-five seconds left to act.

"We don't have a choice," Fayt spoke up first in grim resolution, "we'll have to fight them."

Maria simply nodded her agreement. She would've fought regardless of what reservations Leingod might've had against violence because the _Diplo_ was in danger of waltzing right into an ambush. Cliff was certainly a good captain, but she intended to give him every single advantage he needed in the coming battle. Barking a series of commands in rapid succession, the _Swordfish II_ quickly powered up to general quarters, picking up speed rapidly to combat velocities, as she raced out from cover to intercept her intended target.

"Eight, reconfigure the bridge for the tandem battle cockpit, and deploy our birthday suits. Fayt, the helm is yours, assist Eight as best as you can in maneuvering the ship, and don't hesitate to pull a few stunts, if you can manage. I'll be in the battle sphere behind you, providing assistance with weapons and sensors."

The blue-haired young man hardly had a chance to voice his protests before the bridge itself began to undergo a transformation. Maria's entire console station detached from his own, shifting back smoothly on the end of a mechanized crane arm, lifting it easily into the deep basin area behind the forward stations. A mesmerizing sphere of holographic panels and near incomprehensible data promptly materialized into the broad space with a beaming hum of energy.

Various numbers and other tactile information were rotating and refreshing quickly about the vibrant data sphere at blistering speeds, as such they were virtually gibberish to someone outside the sphere. Her chair rose upwards, levitating ethereally in mid-air above the basin-shaped data hub interface that pumped valuable data constantly into "battle sphere." How the captain was managing to process all this information at her fingertips without losing her mind was anyone's guess.

Fayt's own navigator station underwent its own change, parting about into easily accessible multi-function displays, as his seat shifted to the center position in front. He could feel his chair rising off the floor by the assistance of another crane arm, leaning backwards slightly for added comfort. Foot pedals, a "hand raker"-style throttle, and a control stick swung into place, adjusting automatically for his ease of use, like the whole setup had been custom-made for him.

Several more tactile holographic displays appeared as well to provide additional aid and basic control instructions. The foot pedals was for yaw control, the throttle controlled the engine thrust output, and the control stick dealt with the usual of pitch and roll. In a way, he felt an awful lot like a pilot in a star fighter, although he wondered why Maria hadn't left everything up to Eight. Surely, the ship's A.I. was well-versed in the art of war, so why bother?

"Deploying high-maneuver wings!" Outside on the ship's hull, a quartet of four extendable "wings," each bearing an articulated high-maneuver sub-light engine on the wing tips, were extending outwards from the fore and aft sections of the fuselage like wings. The engines pivoted up and down visibly in routine diagnostics before roaring ablaze to life, adding their great strength to the _Swordfish II_'s glorious charge. "_SAFE_-TY _kaishou_! All weapons free. Conventional countermeasures loaded and ready. ECM at full power. Space-Time Displacement Shields at maximum output. Quantum torpedoes loaded and armed through vertical launch tubes Mark One to Twelve. All systems go!"

In a matter of seconds, the once humble, utilitarian corvette-class ship was bristling to the gills with weaponry as a plethora of concealed multi-directional phase cannon banks unfurled themselves all along the hull. Vertical launch tubes spread evenly through the ship bustled out from their armored housings. Meanwhile, six shielded turret housings unmasked themselves, distributed equally on the dorsal and ventral sections in delta, to reveal their dual-barreled high-caliber anti-matter cannons that could still put the hurt where it counted. It was a rather formidable arsenal that certainly put the "pea shooters" on a cutter-class to shame.

Needless to say, Fayt was astounded by the hardware. "Mari-?"

"That's Captain to you, helmsman!" Maria boomed curtly from within the vibrant sea of colors in the battle sphere. "Eight, assign target Bogey-One with Battery A. On my mark, I want a rifled burst, two salvos! Make them count."

"Uploading telemetry data now," the ship's A.I. responded, "range: fifteen kilometers and closing fast."

"Mark!" the light blue-haired young woman barked. An awesome roar echoed through the ship as the stars raced by at astonishing speeds. Twin crackling comets of red destruction sizzled ahead of them through dead space, followed several seconds later by the audible crack of thunder the follow up salvo from Battery A's anti-matter cannons. The deadly ordinance swiftly outpaced the _Swordfish II_'s on the light-footed wings of death to meet its intended target.

"Estimated time to impact in three, two, one..."

A flashing explosion on the horizon marked the obliteration of one Vendeeni reconnaissance probe, certainly, but that was just the beginning of their troubles. Predictably, the electronic countermeasures had little or no effect on the probe's transmitting capabilities. Eight scarcely had a chance to confirm the destruction before the course of events began to snowball downhill rapidly. Already the sensors were detecting gravitic space anomaly right ahead of the...

"Helm, roll us to the right, wide, now!" Maria ordered snapping Fayt out of his silent awe.

Hurriedly, he snapped his control stick to the right and increased pressure on his right foot, throwing the _Swordfish II_ into a wide evasive barrel roll. The ship was surprisingly agile, and maneuvered so much more like craft smaller than its considerable size, thanks to pivoting sub-light engines on its "wing tips," redirecting their aft thrust intuitively to aid in the maneuver. Even so, they narrowly avoided the juggernaut of a battleship by a scant few meters as it came screaming to stop, like a freight train, into normal space, sending an invisible spatial shockwave in its wake.

The space-time displacement shield's held taking the brunt of the disturbance that sent tremors rocking through the hull of the corvette. However, never one to waste an opportunity when she saw one, Quark's leader barked another command:

"All batteries fire at will! Helm, keep us rolling until I say so!"

No doubt a touch surprised that they had almost jumped right into the smaller corvette-class ship, the Vendeeni's mood soured faster than a sinking ship when the _Swordfish II_ opened up with a savage barrage at close-quarters. Crackling bolts of crimson and scattering white particle beams raked the starboard flank of the battleship, setting off a firework's display of minor explosions and flashes as the Vendeeni shields weathered the multiple attacks. The smaller daredevil ship was flying straight by them in a crazed spinning motion, presenting its various batteries of cannons rapidly with each revolution.

By the time the Vendeeni could attempt to even return fire on the mad marionette, the faster corvette-class ship had cleared past its aft quarters, leaving severely weakened shields and a frenzied crew. The _Swordfish II_ ceased its twist roll promptly and fired off a pair of parting kisses, two quantum torpedoes streaking through the starlit waters of space, straight into the battleship's exposed thruster laden rear. A violent explosion tore the alien vessel asunder into a hellish firestorm from its conventional engines detonating into a doomed chain reaction that set off the sensitive gravitic warp core.

"Vendeeni battle-class destroyed!" Eight cheered with a whoop as the corvette leveled off from its roll.

A certain blue-haired young man was panting audibly in his station. The _Swordfish II_ was certainly no high-speed fighter, but the intense adrenaline rush of combat was still all the same. He could scarcely even believe that he had truly committed himself to this act of violence. "D-Did any life pods make it?"

His bizarre statement notably caught the notice of unseen eyes of ice behind the artificial veil of light and sound. She would say nothing, but there was undeniable surge of bittersweet scorn building in her gut, leaving to the ship's A.I. to break the news. The quantum torpedoes had done their job superbly, a stroke of good fortune leading to the cataclysmic explosion. No survivors; Fayt could do little more but seethe in remorse and pity.

_She_ was learning to despise him, well enough.

"_Gaou_, we have company! Multiple gravitic space anomalies detected off the port side, counting five ships, approximate range: one thousand kilometers. ...They're deploying fighters!"

Great, the more the _merrier_, they say.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Woohoo, I've finally done it! Less angst, more fighting! I'd like to send a warm shout-out to the reviewers and readers alike for their comments and support, spiritually or otherwise. There's nothing more refreshing than you guys pointing out what I did right or especially what I did wrong, so keep sending them in! J-Easy's with you! As usual, I'd like to apologize if there's some grammatical, style, or some shiz-nit-hit-the-fan screw up along the way.

Oh, and few personal shout outs here before I go...

To Da Guv'nor Tristan Amaryllis: Thank you for throwing out the red card on me. I adore it when people can find where I screwed up. Yes, I admit my narrative tends to be awfully metaphorical and embellished when I start getting into people's heads. I have this running pet peeve, you see, where I have to be deadly certain that I put down a complete thought, that I didn't absently omit something important to a character's internal monologue. Unfortunately, since I have that kind of mentality, it lends onto pretty everything I do, even dialogue sadly. I'm still trying to get used to the fact that I don't always have to think in complete thoughts/sentences for the sake of narration.

Oh, and yes, if you do manage to figure out a way to murder me through the computer screen, give me a call some time in Purgatory if you happen to have a minute would you, please? I'd really love to hear how you pulled out it off; if you can do that, then there has to be a way we can mess with the heads of the Livin', you what I mean?

To the Guv'ness Ruine (or should I say Guv'nor as well? I beg your pardon, if I'm being too presumptuous): Woohoo, I'm on a roll! At the rate I'm going, I might just be able to rack up some more handy dandy yellow cards and red cards. Fayt's _disturbing_? Mwahahahahhahahahah! Ex-_cellent_! To be honest, I don't really mind if you find him a touch disturbing. He did go into a bit of a depression there (not to mention the "disturbances" I have inflicted so far on him), so it's to be expected. The way I understand it, Fayt was essentially raised to be a "good samaritan."

Yes, his Personal Action responses can at times make him come off as a manipulative person, a jerk, a righteous ninny, or a pragmatist, but generally, the kid's got a good head on his shoulders. Knowing that, how is he supposed to react when the grim reality that he just tried to murder somebody who cared about him without even a reason at all, just because he _felt_ like it? The kid, I imagine, would be horrified to his toes as it goes against his principles to a T. So he beats up on himself, conveniently shutting out his reasonable side, as he "guilts" himself into oblivion. Thanks to Eight, however, the kid's gotta confront the monster in his closet and rebuild his trust with Maria once more.

As for Albel being "psychopathic." To be honest, I think he's more so of a sociopath misanthrope with a touch of megalomania. I'm uncertain of his back story, but I figure that unrealistic expectations, the weight of the world on his shoulders and all that pretty much turned him into a monster. Now, a real psycho per say, is Albedo from Xenosaga. U-DO messed up his mind good. I love him, I loathe him, and I adore him when he works his magic on-stage, blowing Kefka and lame-o Sephiroth clean out of the water.

On the subject of heavy angst: Man, I really do have a bit of a situation with angst, don't I? I really couldn't help it with the early chapters on Vanguard III. One thing kind of lead to another, and this being in AU territory, stuff...happens. It could be a side-effect of reading the whole thing in one sitting or an accumulation of everything, but I can assure you that there will be considerable reduction in angst. We're going to Elicoor II, we're having battles, action-sequences a plenty, Albel Nox, Nel Zelpher, Clair Lasbard, Welch Vineyard, and I can finally unraveling answers to some persistent questions!

Peace out, and look forward to the next chapter, guys! And you all better go watch Frank Miller's _Sin City_, or J-Easy will go Fan-Boy on your dog house!

P.S. Please don't kill me because of the totally blatant cliff hanger.

"Walk down the right back alley in Sin City, and you can find anything..."

Marv, Frank Miller's _Sin City_


	9. Chapter 08

* * *

Disclaimer:

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

* * *

Fates Intertwined

Chapter 08:

Through the Fields

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

"_Gaou_, we have company! Multiple gravitic space anomalies detected off the port side, counting five ships, approximate range: one thousand kilometers. ...They're deploying fighters!"

Maria simply nodded, leaving the fear and astonishment to her less battle hardened companion. She had expected no less from the Vendeeni to send a swift taskforce to deal with their "problem." It was highly uncommon for battleships or combat military ships to travel alone, unless they were on a mission of special circumstances. Now, a considerable piece of its battle group was arriving, like an angry mob to crush whatever manner of beast that had stolen one of its flocks in the dead of night. The deployment of a fighter screen, on the other hand, was slightly expected since border worlds and such did not commonly follow the Pangalactic Federation Spacy's battle tactics to the letter.

Today was unceasingly becoming more complicated by the second.

"Helm, turn about forty-five degrees to starboard side; I've already plotted our course, maximum speed," Maria ordered briskly, recalibrating the actuators on the cannons for rapid response. They had no idea what the Vendeeni fighters were capable of, and it was simply better to retreat than risk a turkey shoot with five battleships. She had no intention of sticking around to fight them all, only remaining long enough to hopefully warn the _Diplo_ to run should it arrive, and she wagered she had roughly less than a ten minute window too. "Systems, shift power from the forward space-time displacement shields to the aft facing shields. Power up the gravitic war core to stand-by and be prepared for an emergency jump the moment a window of opportunity opens up."

An _emergency _jump, now this was news; the last they had done an improvised gravitic warp jump was over two years ago on a mission the Abnak Conference on Klaus V. "Ma'am, should I be calculating the telemetry data for our warp destination with the UMN column in the sector? If we jump without the data, the column could throw us out anywhere, maybe into a star, a comet, another ship, a planet's core..._gaou_, there's so much interference."

"That's why I didn't bother. Fleet level tactics are different."

"Wait, if they're jamming our connection with the UMN..." Fayt joined the conversation as the ship hurriedly turned tail and proceed to "run away" at full steam. "How are we supposed to warn the Federation military authorities or anyone else out there?"

The solemn reply was silence. Grim-faced, the young man realized that no such thing was going to happen, and there would be more bloodshed yet before the battle was over. It was now that he understood what it was like to be in a real fight. He could only imagine what anguish and sorrow awaited in a war, as a general alarm went off with a whirling roar.

"Vendeeni fighter squadron is giving pursuit, estimated time to intercept: one minute and fifty seconds. Warning! The battleships are powering up their main guns. Analyzing...disrupter cannons! They're fanning out into a delta formation. First volley's away!"

Maria wasted no time and gave the order to evade. At a thousand kilometers, they would only have seconds to respond. The _Swordfish_ _II_ pulled up into a sharp ascent, the hi-maneuver sub-light engines on its wing tips pivoting swiftly, as a swarm of massive undulating blue comets, the size of a two story house, tore into the space they previously occupied. They appeared to be transgressing between and space-time itself, disappearing and reappearing intermittently at regular intervals. The energy magnitude on the giant disrupter bolts would've been enough to fry the space-time displacement shields with a few direct hits. With the combined firepower of five battleships, there wouldn't be much left over to salvage at all in the wake of the merciless destruction.

"Evasion successful. Second volley, incoming!"

Again, the agile corvette evaded, diving downwards. The Vendeeni appeared not to have properly calibrated their guns to match the inherent capabilities of the _Swordfish II_ yet. Already the faster ship had managed to gain a lead of two hundred kilometers, fleeing on a direct course out of the battle zone with the asteroid field off their port side. Gliding about on the edge of the field, Maria ordered Fayt to "hug" to the asteroids as best as he could, much to the young man's dismay. He wasn't particularly confident of his flying skills just yet, but complied nonetheless.

The _Swordfish II_ slipped closer to the gargantuan rocks, skimming above the ancient surfaces with just meters to spare, which made life that much more difficult for the Vendeeni gunners. Confounded perhaps even frustrated, the battleships indiscriminately began to fire at will. A vibrant string of white-hot explosions lit up the once peaceable asteroid field, turning the starlit night of space into day. Debris and bright columns of super heated plasma erupted in the wake of the corvette-class ship, a small black silhouette in the whitening flood that followed it in the ensuing maelstrom of destruction.

"Are they **_crazy_**? They're just shooting all over the place without any...GAH!" Fayt yelped when a particularly violent shudder rocked the ship. The space-time displacement shields were taking a beating from the hellish firestorm outside the hull. Luckily, they had yet to take any form of direct hits from the Vendeeni disrupter cannons or the indirect fire they were taking from the exploding asteroids.

Maria said not a word, cool as ice, as she continuously monitored the flood of information disseminating through the plethora of holographic monitors in the majestic glow of the battle sphere with practiced ease. There was distinctive ill feeling in her gut telling her that something was wrong. The Vendeeni vanguard fleet that had engaged the Federation fleet at Hyda IV annihilated their ill-prepared opponents with ease. Tales of their fearsome firepower and gunnery had quickly filtered through the U.M.N. with searing terror, and yet here they were exerting considerable efforts just to eliminate one lone corvette-class ship that was vastly outgunned. Her first kill had been a favorable turn of fortune, pure and simple. Something was dreadfully wrong.

"Vendeeni battleships have halted their bombardment. Pursuit fighters are closing in, count: twenty-four, estimated time to intercept: T-minus ten seconds!"

"Helm, reduce main engine output by thirty percent, and take us into the field," the light blue-haired young woman commanded decisively. "They'll try to cut us off and keep us busy while the battleships try to catch up. Let's not make things any easier for them. Your course has already been plotted. Systems, re-distribute power evenly to the space-time displacement and prepare for anti-fighter combat operations, but don't forget to keep an eye out for the battleships."

Fayt was quickly getting used to taking orders. The selfish instinctive desire for survival was overriding any reservations he had about violence and killing, his preoccupied with the navigation waypoints laid out before him. Under his guidance, the _Swordfish II_ soared deeper into the disturbed asteroid field with a swarm of small orange-red alien craft hot on its heel. They were dart-like diamonds, organic curves lining the seams where surfaces met, no aerodynamic surfaces, and the only distinguishably mechanical aspect of the war machines were the blue flames blooming from the engine exhaust nozzle.

With the elements to her advantage, the captain opened up the _Swordfish II_'s gun batteries to fire at will. She laid down a proverbial minefield of exploding shrapnel from the disintegrating asteroids, crackling red antimatter, and blue particle beams into the face of the pursuing Vendeeni fighters. A series of explosions denoted the deaths of seven of the alien craft as they were shredded to ribbons, unable to return fire or maneuver effectively in the tight corridor, while the rest of the squadron spread out swiftly. They were trying to circumvent the suppressive fire and obstacles in order to cut off corvette exactly like Maria had predicted.

"Helm, keep up the pace. The advantage is on our side since the Vendeeni don't appear to have the navigation charts for the Caribbean Fields," she shouted encouragingly. "Systems, how are we doing on ammunition?"

Eight obliged not so encouragingly. "_Kanchou_, at the volume of fire we're shooting, we'll exhaust our energy reserves for the phase cannon banks to twenty-five percent in four minutes. We're starting to hit the fifty percent mark on our anti-matter reserves too."

"Understood, we'll to attempt to warp out in---"

"Incoming dead ahead of us, unknown mecha unmasking from the shadow of the asteroid at three o'clock!" the ship's AI cut in suddenly.

Sure enough, a team of four silvery humanoid machines appeared in the flight path of the _Swordfish II_, much to the collective astonishment of the crew. They were at least twenty meters in height of an unidentifiable make, arguably larger than the average arm slave that was presumably of Vendeeni origin. Thin, almost skeletal bodies with the most minimal of armor, gazed mockingly upon them with slit yellow eyes that was inset on the faces of their elongated heads, sporting shark-like fins. Each unit was armed with a simple round buckler of the same silvery material and a long black rifle in the arm, which they trained fearlessly on the approaching vessel. Clearly, they had no intention of allowing the ship to pass.

Maria scowled. "I should've known it was an ambush all along."

Eight and Fayt would've certainly voiced their own alarmed concerns right there, but the young woman swiftly cut off their protests. She ordered the ship ahead at full. The sub-light engines roared loudly as the _Swordfish II_ shoot ahead in a surprising burst of speed, plowing straight through the equally surprised Vendeeni mecha. Two of the units were destroyed instantly when they slammed into the space-time displacement shields that shattered them into pieces, detonating momentarily into bright fireballs. Exploiting their surprise, Maria dumped several rounds from the anti-matter cannons into the remaining survivors, sealing their demise, before ordering her helmsman to change course and escape from the cover of the asteroids.

"There's more of them up ahead!" Fayt cried out having a more hands-on of his immediate surroundings.

More of the skeletal mecha appeared at the threshold of their exit, materializing seemingly out of nowhere. They open fired before the corvette could mount a counter attack with a punishing rain of electrified yellow energy bolts. The space-time displacement shields weathered the bruising assault as the _Swordfish II_ muscled its way through the blockade with its superior firepower. More explosions marked the fiery doom of the Vendeeni mecha that failed to evade in time, while the survivors continued to pursue doggedly in the wake of the fleeing ship.

"_Gaou_, _kanchou_, there's no end to them."

Again, another squadron of the skeletal humanoid war machines appeared, forcing another a turn of maneuvers as the _Swordfish II_'s deadly array of cannons silenced many of them. The situation was quickly beginning to spiral out of control. How could the Vendeeni have moved so many forces into the area? Had their forces been lying in wait, cloaked from even the best sensors that money could buy within Federation space? What were they doing here anyway? Why the secrecy?

Shielded in the relative privacy of her battle sphere, Maria frowned openly. Whatever the case may be, she had unwittingly set off an ingenious trap, and now she had to figure a way out. The violent rumbling shocks were rocking the ship more frequently. Her shields were holding steady for now against the meager firepower of the Vendeeni mecha, but wherever one fell, two more would appear to takes its place. It was a losing battle against overwhelming numbers.

"_Kanchou_, the Vendeeni battleships --- that's impossible! Gravitic space anomalies detected, two of the ships are jumping in off the starboard side from the main formation. Range: two thousand meters and closing!"

The Vendeeni be damned. Didn't they know that a cornered fox was more dangerous than a _kith-kaath_ on the prowl?

The young woman's frown blossomed now into a scowl of disapproval.

"M-Maria, what are we going to do?" Fayt cried, speaking her name openly for the first time since the - _incident_. His growing fears were beginning to overrule all good sense he had in mind. He didn't want to die here, not like this, not when there was still so much to be done. His mother, father, and Sophia were still out there, somewhere, waiting for him! "It-it can't end like this, Maria! I-I --- I don't want do die. My mother and father! Sophia! Please, there has to be a way!"

The little voices cried shrilly with glee, building in tempo and mass until they were a deafening roar in her ears. They can smell the bittersweet tang of blood in the air. Its coppery scent was calling to them. The anticipation, the heart rending tension was driving them wild. They _knew_ what was coming. The sounds and terrors of battle receded unto silence, leaving the leader of Quark alone. Her only company was her demons and the enthralling chalice of power they held in their claws.

_Do it._

_Give them what they want._

_Kill them._

_Kill them all!_

_Show them all your great power._

Back then, it was just one battleship, but the best the Federation had to offer --- The _Invisible_, the light blue-haired young woman thought solemnly to herself. How many men and women were on that ship, I wonder? How many funerals? How many widows were crying for their husbands? Grown men crying for their wives? Their sons and daughters? How many more orphaned children, just like me, did I help foster that bloody day with my own two hands? I didn't want to die, that's all. But now...

I didn't wake for months after that incident, but it was where everything began. My command over my powers have grown, but can I truly control it consciously against **this **many ships? It was reckless of me then and it is even more reckless now. The Vendeeni ships will open fire on us soon. If they intended to only capture us before, any chance for compromise has long since been burned to ashes. They've lost too many of their own: a battleship and considerable number pilots in their mecha and fighters. We'll be killed for certain. The question is: can I do this?

The glow of the battle sphere dissipated, the intricate display of data dissolving into drifting particles of light with nothing more but a wave of her hand. She could feel all eyes on her as her station lowered down into basin, retracting back towards the main floor, before allowing her safe passage to be on her away. A hiss of hydraulics punctuated the captain's console unlatching itself. Gracefully, Maria rose and glided forward onto the center stage of attention, a distinctive staccato marking her dignified stride. A leader was strong and noble in the face of great adversity, her eyes unclouded by uncertainty. She bent down on one knee with a rustle of her great coat, clasping her hands together as if in solemn repose, closed her eyes, and began to pray, much to awe of those few who were present to bare witness.

Maria needed a miracle, and she needed one **_now_**. If there was someone out there, she hoped beyond all hopes that they would listen to her now. Never mind that they had ignored her, scorned her, and mocked her pleas so many times, but just this once, listen to her heart truly and grant her one small wish. She didn't want to **_slaughter _**these people, and she _knew_ - she could do it.

_Please_.

Her wish was granted.

A needle thin beam of light pierced through the night, bathing the star-lit sea of night in harmony. The silvery skeletal bodies caught in its glow paused, unsure of what to do; never before had they encountered such a thing. All was quiet, and then the light grew, parting the heavens with its strength. The Vendeeni caught in its brilliance disappeared.

"**_Whoa_**, kids! Did somebody call for the cavalry?" a familiar boisterous voice laughed jovially over the comm-link.

This voice? Could it be?

Maria all but leapt to her feet, the mask that she wore upon her face daily disintegrating into unabashed relief and joy all at once. Hot tears were flowing from her beautiful azure eyes before she even knew it, but she wasn't sad at all. If that blonde-haired lug of a godfather was here right now, she would hug him to death.

She smiled. "Cliff, you're late!"

Cliff Fittir, the universally renowned "_artiste_" and interim leader of Quark, was fashionably late as always.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Bleargh, that took a little bit longer than expected, but no biggie, at least its finally here right? Anyways, I'd like to thank all the readers and reviews once more for having stuck with me thus far. Trust me, we're only a short ways away now from the real good stuff! And remember homies, I take it with the good and the bad, so if you got something to say (constructive or otherwise) go ahead and drop a review; I'm always looking for ways to improve. So holla!

But before I go back to riffin' away on this baby, a few personal shout outs here...

To Her Majesty Ruine: Ack...hack-cough!...that's a new one to me. Praise first and then mild strangulation on the back end, I'll have to learn to get used to this. On the subject of psycho Fayt, ma'am, I assure you I got a few cards up my sleeves yet, and don't fret over Albel, I got something real nice planned for him too.

To the First Prince of the Sword Tristan Amaryllis: Man, that's some high praise; aren't you supposed to be helping to keep my ego in check here, dude? Sweatdrop. As for the subject of strange magical spells, ahem! _sore wa himitsu desu_, Amaryllis-san. The CIA might abduct you for possesing weapons of mass destruction if I told you.

To His Lordship Inuart: Whoa, I had no idea some folks actually liked _Drakengard_ (A.K.A. Drag-on Dragoon). Great (if a touch depressing) story, great voice acting, but let's face the facts, the developers tragically didn't really deliver on the shear _Berserk_-like epic scope of the source material as the actual gameplay quickly became a regular chore. I just hope they do better for _Drakengard III_ on the next-gen consoles. On the other hand, dude, I'm totally flattered, and to be frank, I'm amazed any of you guys and gals are still reading this, considering how much I've already leapt off the deep end. Hehehe, the best has yet to come, but yeah, my bad on the heavy Fayt angst. I really got to figure out a better way to dole out the angst.

Peace out, and look forward to the next chapter, guys! (Ooooo, pretty explosions!)

P.S. If you find any grammer/spelling/style errors, my bad. I'm really trying to catch them (mostly), honest!

"Walk down the right back alley in Sin City, and you can find anything..."

Marv, Frank Miller's _Sin City_


	10. Chapter 09

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

* * *

Fates Intertwined 

Chapter 09:

_Breakthrough_

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

"Cliff, you're late!" Maria declared seemingly for the entire world to hear. 

This immediately earned a double-take on the cool blonde machismo of one Cliff Fittir, age thirty-six, who is considered the most eligible bachelor on all of Klaus, second only to that red-headed "wanksta" Zelos the Third. Oh Lord, he was so going to mess up that punk for stepping on his turf when he got home. How could those executives at Universe GQ magazine possibly pass him aside for that wannabe, huh? He was Cliff Fittir, the most awesome stud to strut his greatness across the universe in years. Even the "Feddie" babes had it good for him!

Of course, all of the above has nothing to do with whether Maria was happy to see him.

"Well, _hey_ now, I really do got a _good _excuse this time. You see, on my way bouncing across the UMN columns with Seiya-san's super deluxe gravitic warp drive here on Hawk's back when - **HO-**LY Sweet Begeezus!" the Klausian shouted becoming aware of the alarming racket his radar warning receivers and IFF was raising in his well-lit cockpit. There were an awful lot of not very nice people painting big bright targets on his beloved "hiney," which was a big "no-no!" in the man's book. He would have to do something drastic it seemed to rectify the situation. "Was I interrupting somethin' important, Maria? 'Cause I can just come back later, if it's nothing serious..."

Eight was having none of this foolish business. "Cliffy, start acting your _own _**age **already! This isn't the time to be kidding around!"

Silence.

Cliff balked, his jaw going utterly slack, as the Hurricane Hawk's white-gold form reared back with a mock swoon. The blonde-haired man was understandably a touch indignant for such an uncalled for jab at his highly fulfilling lifestyle (in his opinion at least). What greater good could there possibly to the noble cause of helping people, guys and gals alike, find their inner _artiste_, the "grand queen diva," and the "pimp mack daddy deluxe," eh? Kids these days were way too wound up in his opinion and really needed to loosen up more. So what if they were in a middle of a battlefield?

"_Yeesh_! Eight, honey-bun, you know I love ya, and there's really no - **_Whoa_**!"

Promptly, the Hurricane Hawk dodged to the side, with a burst of blue flames from its lateral retrorockets, in a zero gravity equivalent of a cartwheel. A column of the brightest blue came screaming through his previous position, causing the paint job on the arm slave to literally bubble and fester from the immense energy exuded by the blast. Down below, one of the surviving alien mecha, which Cliff quickly dubbed as "(Sharky) Skeletons," floated grudgingly in place with the barrel of its long black rifle split in half, still crackling with residue particles from the beam cannon-like attack. The Vendeeni apparently didn't _like _being **ignored**, and just to make that point perfectly clear, more of the skeletal humanoid war machines were materializing by the second, replacing the loses they had taken courtesy of the Hurricane Hawk's wrath.

Cliff raised an eyebrow, paused briefly to consider the overwhelming numbers (not to mention the other immediate concern of the two big giant fish-like blocks of orange, Vendeeni battleships, that were almost on top of them), and laughed. He broadcasted his hearty boisterous mirth freely over all known communication channels, an infectious and equally exasperating call that even wormed its way into the two glimmering green eyes upon the singed metallic face of the Hurricane Hawk. Though dwarfed in comparison to his larger cousins by a good six meters, the golden white arm slave confidently lifted its free armored hand up and waggled an admonishing index finger from side-to-side.

"Is that guy out of his mind?" Fayt choked aloud in astonishment at their rescuer's blatant bravado. The battle had ground down into a proverbial standoff with in minutes of that man's intervention, both sides at a tenuous cease-fire. Personally, he recognized the arm slave as an older command model that was being phased out gradually from the Pangalatic Federation military, the AG-02S LED Vanguard. The fact somebody still had the guts to use it was a testament to its rugged resilience or that person's utterly foolish bravery.

Eight sighed - _cheerfully_. "_Gaou_, there's a sixty-point-eight-three-three-three-in ad nauseum chance that Cliffy really did lose his mind this time. The odds aren't being really nice to us today."

It was either that, or Cliff Fittir had a brilliant trump card up his sleeve and laughing it up for all he was worth ahead of time.

Maria was betting on the latter. Arguably, her godfather was the most irresponsible adult she had ever encountered, even when he was still in charge of Quark. Taking things seriously with a grain of a salt was never the blonde Klausian's strong point, unless one of his hunches waltzed right up and bit him in the rear to sober up. However, there was never a better man to ask for to watch her back when the occasion arose to light.

"You know, guys, you really-really shouldn't interrupt a **Man **when he's settin' the record straight, yeah?" Cliff scolded the Vendeeni with a smile on his face. His cockpit was humming loudly with warning klaxons that he was being locked onto by more enemy sensors than he could count on his available extremities, but he was scarcely even breaking a sweat in his snug, pressurized flight suit. "The world has a funny way of trippin' up punks and since this is the last dance, I got one piece of old fashioned Earthling advice for you..."

He inhaled deeply, basking in the glory of the moment (in spite of the fact that his combat computer was raising hell about the multiple high-energy signatures below that were going to blast him into oblivion).

"...'_You got served_.'"

In a whirling instant, the proverbial tables of chance were turned quite righteously so in Cliff's exuberant favor. A frenzied carnival of explosions lit up the star lit seas of the Caribbean fields, as a hail of crackling red anti-matter and columns of brilliant light tore through the night. Eight cried out in wonder as a ragtag fleet of Federation warships suddenly jumped into the area, obliterating the three straggling Vendeeni battleships in their determined charge. Not one to spar a moment, the Klausian quickly jettisoned the cumbersome gravitic warp drive on his arm slave's back and fired off a burst from the mega particle beam cannon on the right arm.

A barrage of explosions marked the open path where the Skeletons once were, as Cliff hurried into the breach, blasting another path open in the midst of the confusion. He switched back to the private, heavily encoded channel used by Quark operatives in the field to address the "All right, that's our cue to get the frack out of Dodge! No time for questions, Maria; I'd love to talk about it all later, but just follow my lead for now, okay?"

"Understood," Maria nodded towards the "Sound Only" window that flickered briefly onto the main view screen before disappearing, as she rushed towards the helmsman station and anchored herself down beside an astonished Fayt Leingod. "Eight, arm whatever ordinance we have left, including the quantum torpedoes we've held back. You may fire at will. Helmsman, follow his lead, engines at full!"

The _Swordfish II_ roared out of its prison with guns blazing, devastating the squadron of surprised Vendeeni mecha. They broke through the enemy formations and slipped past the occupied orange battleships that were weathering a punishing barrage from the Federation ships. A few Skeletons tried to give chase but were annihilated by a farewell gift in the form of a powerful quantum torpedo that enveloped them into white oblivion.

"Looking good, looking good!" the Klausian cheered over the comm-link, "at this rate, we ought to make good time before Captain _El Loco Grande_ noticed I gave her the slip."

"Captain who?" Fayt said aloud curiously on the spur, only to catch himself "too little, too late, and a dime a dozen short," (according to Cliff's love for Earthling adages), much to his chagrin.

"Eh? Who was that?"

"Uhhh..."

"Hey, you sound kinda familiar, like this '_new hotness_'gal I met on Gemini-Five once. She was this totally babe-potential intern chick at the university of..."

And that's how a long memorable relationship between one Cliff Fittir and one Fayt Leingod began. To say Fayt was mortified was an understatement, although the question of his masculinity had never come up before ever, to his recollection. Now, however, he felt bizarrely irritated and even a touch offended by such an offhand remark. He didn't want to raise a fit, and frankly, his vocabulary escaped the grasp his conscious logic, so instead he just opted for an aggravated growl.

"Oh! My bad, man. You must be that new guy. What was that dude's name again? _Pate de fois gras_? Pattie? Pete? Feet? Fatty?"

If he weren't in the middle of piloting a capable of starship that was escaping from a war zone, Fayt would've had the decency to look mortified.

"Oh, I got it now! You're that genius Leingod kid our client wants to meet. Pleased to meet'cha, man. I'm..." the blonde paused to clear his throat loudly,"...Fittir, Cliff Fittir. You dig?"

Maria silently thanked Cliff for remembering the cover story she opted on, instead of blowing everything out of the water.

"Okay, I think so..."

"Man, you're missin' my meaning completely. Haven't you watched a _Bond_ movie before?"

"'_A_ _Bond_ movie?'"

Oh great, the blue-haired young man truly shouldn't have gotten Cliff started on the subject of old Earthling pop culture icons. Maria and Eight inwardly rolled their eyes, knowing fully well of his fascination and love for the "classics," and he could go on for hours talking about one subject or another without tiring. It was nothing short of a miracle how Mirage managed to tolerate his idiosyncrasies on a daily basis.

"Yeah, _James Bond_! Probably one of the greatest movie franchises in..." the Klausian paused abruptly. A piercing alarm went off in his cockpit, one in particular that he really didn't want to hear now. He glanced over at his tactical multi-function display and discovered to his chagrin exactly the worse case scenario he'd been hoping to avoid. "Eight, you seein' what I'm seeing!"

"Roger, multiple gravitic anomalies detected dead ahead, warp signature count is rising higher: Five. Ten. Twenty. Forty vessels registered!" the A.I. confirmed, biting back her growing fears.

Something was definitely wrong here. How could the Vendeeni possibly pull off so many unauthorized gravitic warps without assistance from the U.M.N.? Normal space-time didn't have the capacity to handle so many simultaneous gate-outs/gate-ins and had to be boosted by the hyperspace columns under the jurisdiction of the U.M.N., but the aliens had some figured out a way to circumvent this altogether. What sort of monstrous technology did they possess that allow them to accomplish such a feat?

"Any contingency plans, Cliff?" Maria asked tentatively. Already her agile mind was fast at work on a solution to their dire predicament, but she still wanted to hear the man out first before she went ahead with her schemes. "Anything at all?"

Cliff snorted, rubbing the back of his helmet sheepishly. "Well, I never thought we'd be up against forty battleships between '_a rock and a hard place_,' as the saying goes. It was already risky enough getting the 'Feds' involved, if you know what I mean, Maria. You could say my imagination kinda failed me for once."

Silence.

"Okay, I didn't think that far yet!" he confessed with a touch of embarrassment, "figured we'd just cross that burning bridge when we get to it, eh?"

Fayt sighed half-heartedly, not believing he was witnessing such an absurd act of irresponsibility from an adult. Steeling his resolve, he pressed on, "So what are we going to do about it? We can't take on forty ships and going back isn't an option either from what you implied."

"Well, the main thing is to escape beyond the Vendeeni E-C-M field to start up a jump. The 'Sharkheads' managed to figure out some way to scramble the gravitic warp systems on smaller ships. I wanted to make a break for the U-M-N gate column instead, so we can bounce around and then rendezvous with a lady friend of mine. Thing is, that probably isn't gonna happen, right, Maria?"

"Affirmative, Cliff," the light blue-haired young woman nodded, "so how far do we have to go?"

"Oh, about hundred thousand kilometers or so."

Again, an awkward silence settled over the group as the second Vendeeni materialized an odd fifty thousand kilometers away in the distant horizon. A horde of fighters and mecha were already disembarking from ships, ready for combat at a moment's notice.

"Vendeeni battle fleet approaching ahead at full. They're arming weapons and acquiring firing telemetry! Estimated time to first strike in ninety seconds and counting."

Things were just going from bad to worse today.

* * *

_What are you waiting for_? 

_Do it._

_You know what needs to be done._

_Forty?_

_Child's play, fuufuufuufuu!_

_One will be more than enough._

_What are sixty thousand 'void' souls worth to you anyway?_

_**Nothing**._

* * *

"Eight, how many quantum torpedoes do we have left?" Maria asked in a deathly voice, bearing no emotion. She could feel the cold shivers that her voice elicited from her companions, but her mind was decided already. Today, she would bury another fragment of her ill, festering heart in the sea of stardust with sixty thousand stars to join it in evermore. 

Eight had a distinctly bitter premonition about what was to happen, and was ambivalent to Cliff's less than tactful intervention. Clad in his black flight suit, he patched a transmission through the less secure video-communication link, appearing visibly in a window on the main screen, "Whoa, hold a sec here, Maria! You're not serious-"

The emotionless gaze in the violet-hued azure eyes of his goddaughter hurt him worse than any blow he had ever taken in his lifetime. She didn't see him, didn't hear him; she just didn't care anymore. What made it worse was that Maria was consciously doing it for once. In silent dismay, he could only watch, wondering what had to her since she left nearly over a week ago, as Eight confirmed the presence of the last remaining quantum torpedo.

Mirage was so going to kill him when they got back home.

However, little did the blonde Klausian know that the person most responsible was sitting in the same room with his "little girl." He vowed, nonetheless, to himself them if it was some other outside party responsible, he was going to break every one of their legs before giving them a nice heart-to-heart chat with "Mister Brass and Molotov."

"Wait a minute, what are you going to do with just one quantum torpedo? We should be trying to escape through the asteroid field!" Fayt protested. He, too, had an eerie feeling in his gut, as if something - _unnatural _- was about to happen. Every instinct in his body was telling him to flee now, but he refused to go because...well, truthfully he didn't even understand why. "This is crazy. We can't take on forty battleships by ourselves."

Cliff sighed, working the kinks out of his shoulder with audible cracks. "Hate to say it, but going back to team up with the Feds wouldn't do much good at all for any of us. Captain _El Loco_'s got some pretty fine ships, mostly destroyers and light cruisers, but in a face-to-face brawl, it wouldn't even be _funny_, if you know what I mean."

"But-!"

"All final checks complete," Eight interjected solemnly. They could never be more ready than now. "Estimated time to fleet barrage in thirty seconds. The Federation fleet is deploying perimeter space-time material shields and taking cover. It's all up to you know, Captain."

The leader of Quark nodded simply without question, and stepped back away from the helmsman's station. "Understood, lower gravity to twenty five percent on the bridge and shut down all system to silent running mode. You may fire on my command"

The _Swordfish II_ groaned audibly, powering down its systems to the bare minimum needed to defend itself, while keeping its gravitic warp array on stand-by mode. Only the familiar hum of the life support systems remained, much to Fayt's anxiety as his console lost all power. This left alone with his strange companions to watch the conclusion that awaited on the main view screen. He heard the rapport Maria's lithe footsteps kick off gently against the floor and he glanced about only to be caught dumbstruck, an unseen wind suddenly ruffling his hair from nowhere.

She was glowing, an aura of power that shone with divine majesty, growing greater by the second. At its epicenter was Maria: beautiful and power, her azure hair and billowing white greatcoat arrayed about her. Her hands were clasped if in prayer once more, eyes closed in deep concentration within the eternal serenity. She crossed the vast plains, passed the woods of evergreen, passed the sandy white beaches, and dove into the blue depths of her soul, crashing beneath the turbulent waves, deeper into a void world without light.

The shining aura blazed white-hot, forcing Fayt to shield his eyes. He could hear it in his bones, an ethereal hymn championed mightily by its choir, as ancient foreign sigils and runes, words of power, swirled about into the air. Maria's power grew greater, enveloping all in white divinity. The _Swordfish II_, now a vibrant beacon of light in the darkness of space, shined brighter than any star. Runes materialize into pure energy, flowing together in harmony that shaped many rings and great halos around the ship.

"Massive energy discharge detected. The Vendeeni fleet is firing. Estimated time to contact: fifteen seconds."

So the die was cast as the grand choir erupted into a rousing crescendo. The corvette-class ship loosed her last quantum torpedo, sending a blazing blue sphere of fury hurtling through space. Trails of zigzagging energy ribbons twisted and twirled in concert with spiraling sigils in the wake of the sphere. The torpedo shot ahead faster, ever faster, leaving behind great energy shockwaves intermittently as its entire form elongated into a near-invisible arrow of judgment.

The distant horizon abruptly flashed a blinding white for an instant when the "blessed" torpedo struck the flood of golden death that was here and yet was not here all at once. An explosive chain reaction flashed, but instead of being destroyed, the blue arrow instantly absorbed the destructive energy, taking the brilliant light with it. Now, it disappeared completely, the trail of ribbons and sigils ending their pursuit as well.

"What the-? Where'd it go?" Cliff blurted out over the communications link, a look of genuine bewilderment on his face.

"Unable to track. The energy magnitude has exceeded-!"

It was right about then, as Cliff Fittir would later recall in the many years to come, when _one_ of the first "Grand Daddy of all Explosions" happened. Like a Hollywood movie moment, all existence suddenly stopped. It wad dead quiet, the bittersweet tension building in the air as all eyes watched with maddening intensity, and then a flicker of light, so small, so miniscule. A silvery halo expanded swiftly outwards from the white-hot flame, disintegrating anything in its path, a roaring flood that shook the world to the core.

Most of all, he remembered the screaming.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Phew, I'm finally done. I was starting to wonder if I'd ever get done. Anyways, I'd like to thank all the guys and gals reading this little ficcie and dropping me some reviews. Without you guys, this wouldn't be as fun of an experiment. Now remember, I take it with the good and the bad, so if you got something to say (constructive or otherwise) go ahead and drop a review; I'm always looking for ways to improve.

Oh, and Millia, thanks for the pointers. I'll have to make a note to put up a revised edition of Chappie 01 with the grammar fixes in the future.

Peace out, and look forward to the next chapter, guys! (The Crash)


	11. Chapter 10

* * *

Disclaimer:

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

* * *

Fates Intertwined

Chapter 10:

Crash and Burn

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

_The flames_.

The flames were what he remembered the most, burning white hot, searing the tender flesh from his bones. He wanted to run away kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs, but he couldn't even scream because he was completely covered by the asphyxiating fire, stealing the breath from his lungs and turning it into choking smoke. There was no escape, nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, and no matter how much he beat at the flames, they just burned hotter.

He was _dying_.

That much he was certain, and all the while, his shocked green eyes stared in horror at the crowd that gathered to watch him burn upon the vindictive pyre. They were faces he clearly recognized, some new and some old: his college friends and teammates, his close acquaintances he had made at the gym and on campus, his various relatives, and his many esteemed professors. Worst of all were the faces at the forefront of the crowd, it was his mother and father, Sophia standing beside them, Nicholas, and little Meena at her brother's side, holding his hand without a word. Everyone had the same look in their eyes, shouting silently the same damning words.

_Coward._

_Weakling._

_Murderer_.

So they turned away with ashen faces, ignorant of the ghastly fate that had befallen their favorite son. One by one they left with accusing looks of shame and disgrace, each turning the dagger buried in his still beating heart with another sickening twist. Everyone left him, even his mother, father, and Sophia, huddling together as if mourning, perhaps asking where they had gone wrong to nurture such a monster. The crowd thinned until all that was left were two faces that he least expected to see.

A blonde-haired man, tall with broad powerful shoulders, muscled limbs that bespoke of great strength, and a set of golden earrings in his left ear, stood at ease. The dark gray veins that pulsated coolly with a dark green light upon his throat marked him clearly as a Klausian. He had his arms crossed over his barreled chest in an overt display of his distaste, his cobalt blue eyes hardened oddly with pity. He was someone familiar, but his memory couldn't recall who he was or what significance he held.

_You'd better take good care of them both for me, ya hear?_

Fittir, Cliff Fittir was his name, and he too turned away, leaving with his gloved hands stuffed vehemently into his black trousers, his posture hunched over forwards, as an air of clear disappointment clung to his wake. This left only one person remaining from the throngs of familiar faces that were abandoning him to his fate. He didn't expect to see _her_, didn't _want _to see _her_, but _she_ was here.

Maria Traydor stood impassively beyond the roar of the fire, gazing at him with eyes of blue that held neither hate nor shame. She simply just didn't care, the flaming brilliance casting shadows and light about her beautiful face, as he burned into gray ashes under the column of black smoke. If he hadn't been in so much pain, perhaps he could've appreciate this small mercy, yet it eerily felt worse than any other blow he had suffered at the eyes of the others. She was carving out his heart with the bone-chilling knife of indifference.

Why? Why wouldn't she hate him, scream at him, jeer at him? Didn't she know how the wounds caused by his grave sin was festering, eating him alive, or was this all part of the plan to make him suffer in misery to his last breath? He wanted to know so desperately what she felt, though nothing good could come of it, but he had to know. Anything was better than dying without a reason.

Then the most bizarre thing happened.

Maybe it was the pain that was causing him to hallucinate again, but he clearly saw something, well, _some things_ standing beside the blue-haired young woman. To her left was a child of twelve or so odd years, with long blue hair tied into a ponytail by a red ribbon and earnest blue eyes, dressed conventionally well-enough for her age. She was shouting vehemently, with her small hands clasped around the impassive young woman's left hand, pulling and shoving with all her might, as she shot urgent glances towards him. To her right was a much taller figure, shrouded in eerie towering black shadows that twisted and curled with life. It was a living cloak of darkness that lavished smoldering coils of obsidian upon Maria in the gentle caress of a half-embrace, while flickers of green embers loomed absently about her, like disembodied eyes.

He was both entranced and disturbed by the ethereal spectacle. The little girl could've easily passed as a younger incarnation of Maria when she was still a child, but _who _- or _what _- was that shadowy specter that clung to her? Could it be a messenger of death, or some other ill-omen?

Fayt would never know because his eyes melted out of their sockets, drowning him in darkness and the agony of evermore, as a gurgling scream escaped through the void in his eviscerated throat.

..._Ma_..._ria_...

..._Don't_...

..._Leave_...

..._Me_.

* * *

"_Gaou_, Mister Fayt! Fayt, Fayt! Are you there? **Blink **if you can hear me."

"_Vee_! Thank goodness you made it! Oh wait, don't move yet I haven't finished putting back in that..._itai_. That must've hurt."

"Sorry, Fayt-Fayt, it's not every day you have to put somebody back together from blood, ashes, sinew, and a whole lot of bone, _ne_?"

"_Gaou_, this is depressing... You know, even though we didn't know each other very long, I'm glad we met, and I hope you don't mind me calling you, '_Friend_.' Oh! No, not like that, I just missed another liga-"

"_Son'na_...this is getting really messy. All right, hang in there, Fayt!"

"...I think this should work. _Etou_, could I ask you one more favor, Fayt-Fayt? I-I know I already asked you to take care of Big Sister Maria for me, but...please? I - Do you remember my - my _necklace_? _Hai_, the one with the small golden plate on a silver chain, I...I gave it to her."

"Please, you have to look after it! If she loses it, please take good care of it for Maria, for me, for us!"

"_Gomen_, I wish I wasn't such a burden, but this is the best I can do."

"Yes, this is - this is goodbye, Fayt! Good luck and take care of yourself too, _Gaou_!"

* * *

Eight sighed, shutting the door firmly behind her with a bang. She was tired and for once she was glad she had been born with a natural talent for multi-tasking, being an A.I. and all. However, there was little to console her troubled spirit as she wondered if there was something more she could've done for her friends.

"There's nothing more you could've done," boomed an androgynous voice, stronger than steel, but neither man nor woman.

The strong breeze carried the serene crashing of the undulating waves to her ears, the salty scent invigorating her senses for the first time. She could feel the wind, cool to the touch against her skin, while the sun bathed her in its warm glow. An innocent, blissful smile blossomed upon her for the first time in days, a genuine smile that was neither forced nor sad. Was this what it felt like to be human flesh and blood?

"Flesh and blood it is, _weak _and _frail_."

Yes, they were only flesh and blood at the end of the day, but she had to believe in them --- that everyone could carry on without her.

The voice sniffed in condescension. "Oh, they will, _girl_, most certainly they will --- to the death."

* * *

Air.

Pins and needles weren't supposed to hurt too bad, if it was only a few, but imagine thousands, perhaps millions of them shoved into every nook and cranny of one's lungs, and the sadistic imagination had a wonderful recipe for pain. Her lungs heaved her into consciousness with a dry hacking cough, gobbling up precious bittersweet air greedily, in spite of the agony that followed with each breath. It was foul to the touch, a sickly crumbling substance caked with tarry smoke that choked her throat, but she breathed it in all the same. She needed it and her body was more than happy to oblige.

Self-awareness took shape and form, solidifying with each new sensation she grasped. There was the arid acid smell of something burning, boasting of its hot fire against her skin. If she could, she would've vomited in revulsion. The smooth slick texture of cool fluid graced the side of her face, laced with a coppery scent that reminded her of blood. Her spent lethargic limbs burned and ached as if some great effort had consumed her being utterly, but she pressed on through shear force of will, gritting her teeth tautly.

The grim visage of a nightmare greeted her, though subconsciously she knew it was a violent confirmation of her worst fears. Roaring fires dotted the devastated landscape, blasted chaotically with great columns of black smoke that could've been seen from miles around. It was as if a devil had risen on this very spot and had taken with him ten miles of once forested land in every direction, burning away a fiery sulfurous crater of destruction that grew more vibrant by the minute. The trees were more than content to burn into oblivion, swaying merrily in the ominous gale that blew brightly lit embers and black sooty ashes to the four winds.

Worst yet, Maria knew all too well where she was in the misleading eye of this firestorm. High arching Gothic walls rose from all around, broken into jagged ribs from the empty ceiling that now beheld the blackening sky. It was these walls that once housed a humming hive of electronics and a convoluted chain of cables that twisted and turned as so to confound and drive the average mind insane. However to those that could appreciate its dark beauty, this was HEARTS Sanctum, the heart and soul of the _Swordfish II_'s quantum mainframe where its artificial intelligence resided in the glowing spherical core set into the center of the cathedral.

The World had been shattered, black and blue "blood" pooled in silent witness across the once hallowed ground in outrage, as the gory contents of within were brutally strewn about like entrails, half-machine and --- something else. This was the scene of a murder, but whose fault was it? Who was to blame for this loss of innocence?

* * *

_She's dead._

_Fuufuufuufuufuu!_

_Dead._

_Hahahaha!_

_Gone forever._

* * *

I... I killed her, Maria thought, as a terrible cold tore through her heart and ripped the warmth from her body altogether. If only I hadn't... How many more... I'm - I'm sorry - _Eight_.

There were no tears to be shed here, under the fading light of the blackening sky. She couldn't cry even if she wanted. The devouring void in her heart fed greedily upon her sorrow, widening the growing black chasm within. A leader, a _true _leader could not show weakness, not now, not ever, in their eternal vigilance, such was the price of command.

A warming sensation pricked the weathered azure-haired young woman from her reverie. It "flowed" from her partially gloved right hand, and she glanced down, noting that she had stood up subconsciously without knowing. What greeted her was a most curious object, familiar and yet not so familiar. It was a bloodstained silver necklace adorned with a rectangular golden plate, inscribed with a plethora of alien sigils and runs that she couldn't identify. The metal, oddly enough, felt alive. Brimming with warmth, it soothed her aching hands straight through the protective fabric of her fingerless gloves.

* * *

_Such a nostalgic feeling._

_Isn't it_?

* * *

By a most natural instinct, she wore the enigmatic artifact, as if it had meant to always be hers. The silvery chain lengthened to accommodate her, while the metallic plate grew as well, adding veins that pulsated with a faint blue light. It was a perfect fit. Yes, there was something - nostalgic here - and for once, in what seemed to have been a long while, Maria felt at ease, even as everything around her burned to ashes amidst the wreckage of the _Swordfish II_.

The black sky rumbled with the clash of thunder, joined in harmony with the howling wind that sent her long hair and greatcoat billowing on the graces of the angry zephyrs. A storm was brewing - no - it was already upon them in fact. She could hear them approach, great wings beating swiftly in thunderous flight, as shrieks of fury tore through the air from their muzzled jaws. Another life for another fight; there would be no time even for proper last rites. Though marred by grime and a smattering of dried blood, the young woman adeptly brandished her microblaster with a crisp hiss of fabric, giving it a dexterous twirl before grabbing the handle in her firm grasp.

It was time to go meet her destiny.

* * *

Tearing screams of fury, the symphony of the hunt, the primal instinct of the chase, carried on the swift winds of fear and death; there would be no escape today for the ring of fire was everywhere, the choking smoke stealing the breath of his lungs. Already his legs were beginning tire as his foot crushed a pile of ashes, scattering searing hot embers in all directions, like stardust. He could run all he wanted to the brink of death, but death would still have him yet.

Abruptly, Fayt felt a debilitating sense of vertigo grip him as the world turned inside out and he was flung head over heels onto his back, knocking the breath out of him. A burning pain shot through his left leg from the ankle, throwing off his disorientation quickly, but also making two things very clear: 1. He had just tripped. 2. He may have just sprained his ankle or worse, leaving him quite immobile for the moment.

"Ugh, I'm not going to die here," the sooty young man growled, ignoring the countless aches and cuts all across his bruised body that told him to lay down.

With a shout of superhuman effort, he hoisted himself upright and began to limp off through the fiery devastation towards the direction of corridor of towering flames and black smoke rising from the wreckage. It was certain to him that something terrible had happened, and in the catastrophe, the _Swordfish II_ had crash-landed somewhere, although to be honest, this was unlike any crash site he had ever seen on television. What could've happened to cause so much destruction? Wreckage was seemingly scattered for miles around, the forest was bursting into flames, and the sky had been completely blotted out in the process.

Night or day didn't matter anymore because this surely had to be Hell.

The heart-rending screams cut him down to the bone, his body clamming up suddenly against his own volition. Those things that flew on leathery wings, there was something strange about their voices. He was certain! From a distance, he had still been able to run, but as they had gotten progressively closer, the fearful lethargy had gotten worse. What was this power?

* * *

_Hehehahahahaha_!

_Now, he asks_.

_Fool_.

_Deafer than a rat in outer space, I say_.

_It's obvious, so obvious_.

**_Dragonfear_**.

* * *

"_Dragonfear_," Fayt mumbled, the word coming to him suddenly. It seemed he had known all along, an old unused memory buried somewhere that had no use until now. How strange it was indeed, but it was no time to be asking idiotic questions.

Mustering the reserve of his strength, he turned his gaze towards the direction where the whoosh of wind reverberated forth down the enflamed "corridor." His mind was grappling fiercely with the new knowledge available to him, trying to find some way to counter the paralysis in his body. All the while a parade of little voices in his head chipped in annoyingly with their little antics.

* * *

_How brave_.

_How dashing_!

_Do we smell dragonturds in your pants_?

_Hahahaha_!

_Oh, that's a good one_!

_How about dancing a jig and praying for rain_?

**_A rain of blood_**!

* * *

"Shut up! I can't think with you guys shouting..."

Oh great, he was really going nuts. He was starting to talk back to those imaginary voices! They weren't real, the young man reminded himself. They couldn't be real! He was a perfectly normal...

* * *

..._Young man who has just woken up in Hell's Inferno._

_Lost_.

_Weary_.

_Alone_.

_Hunted_.

_And looking for that_-!

_Oh dear_.

_Oh my, oh my_.

_We have guests_!

* * *

A cacophonic shriek pierced the din of the roaring fames, shocking Fayt out of his internal struggle with his little "backseat drivers." As big (if not bigger than) a main battle tank, two dark shapes soared agilely through the inferno on the abundance of heated thermals, pivoting their long tails to make the slightest of adjustments with ease. The bright fire highlighted their armored hides of reptilian scale, with powerful Gothic bat-like wings for arms, and cruel talons on each foot that could slice a man in two.

Against an unarmed man on foot, this was definitely overkill. However, what caught the young man's eye on the outset were the humanoid figures, armed with lances, astride these awesome beasts. They wore heavy black medieval armor from the looks of things, but how did they manage to tame _dragons_? The notion was utterly preposterous in the modern world, especially after the discovery of a highly civilized Draconian race some centuries ago. Even the most primitive of dragons proved to be extraordinarily intelligent, not to mention equally ferocious. Could those "knights" - or should he say, "dragon knights" - really have accomplished such a feat? Better yet, were they even _human_ for that matter?

Fayt bit his lip in stark apprehension, the blood in his veins cooling dangerously into a deeper lethargy; he was about to find out the hard way the answers to his questions. There was little room for doubt that _they_ could see him quite well, with just two hundred odd meters between himself and them to spare.

The lead rider shouted harshly in a strange foreign tongue, composed beautifully as if "he" were singing, and urged his steed onwards with greater haste. Imagine what his surprise must have been when a massive sphere of brilliant blue surged outwards from the curtain of flames, sundering a wing from his dragon in a blink of an eye. A shower of crimson erupted from the bleeding stump, man and beast crying unanimously in bitter rage as they plummeted helplessly out of the air and into the burning wreckage that sealed their fate.

Cautioned by the death of "his" comrade, the second dragon knight wisely pulled back on his reigns tightly, forcing his dragon to take flight, beating its wings ferociously to gain altitude. He never did quite get very far because just mere seconds later, a white and blue figure shrouded in flames burst through the flames and landed neatly on the exposed hindquarters of his steed. The sudden unwanted addition of a burden coming at full speed, with the laws of gravity and momentum on its side, earned a sharp scream of outrage from the dragon as it dropped precipitously closer to the ground.

Shaken by the disturbance as well, the white-blue figure lost his (or her) balance and slid off the creature's rump with an audible shout. Only through quick reflexes did they manage to grab a hold of a protruding piece of gear from the dragon's harness, hanging on for dear life by a strip of rawhide. Not being a person to take too kindly to having excess baggage along for the ride, the dragon knight twisted about in his saddle and swung his lance in wide arc, trying to dislodge his foe. The interloper countered faster, however; a sudden crackling flash of light, and the armored man's head ceased to be, disappearing in a mist of blood.

With smoke pouring out from the sizzling stump, the headless armored body tumbled eerily out of the saddle in mid-air, smashing into the ground seconds later where it tumbled along boneless like a rag doll, gradually coming to a stop in a heap of twitching limbs. Sensing that its rider was no more, the still airborne dragon attempted to roll in order to rid itself free of its enemy, but by then it was too late. Fayt could only watch in horror as its abdomen exploded outwards from a series of deadly attacks concentrated at point blank into its side. Blood and gore spilled into the air with the beast's death, the carcass plummeting into the earth along with its "passenger." Together they disappeared into an explosion of earth and sparking ashes as the dragon gave a final gurgling death cry.

"What the?" the green-eyed young man murmured hoarsely as he suddenly felt the fear in his lethargic body give out. The enervating force coursing through his body sent him crashing down neatly onto his knees, all the while his eyes were still riveted on the scene before him, stunned by what had just transpired in the span of a minute. "What the hell just _happened_?"

Compelled perhaps by some force of will, Fayt rose to his feet, taking one step forward, and then another, and another, before he literally broke out into a dead run. He scrambled on all fours when he tripped over the still twitching headless body of the dead dragon knight, ignoring it as if it didn't exist. The only thing that mattered to his seized mind then was to discover the fate of his "rescuer" of sorts. He came to a breathless halt, just several yards away from the bloody carcass of the second dragon.

At first there was no one in sight, just an overwhelming stench of blood that was pooling in a great puddle around the once living beast. It was nearly enough to send him retching, as he was forced to cover his mouth and nose with a hand to ward off the putrid nauseating smell. Perhaps, the white-blue figure had perished underneath the great weight of the dead dragon in its fall? If only things were that simple, but he had no such luck as the very same person emerged moments later, staggering wearily from side to side, drenched neatly from head to toe in crimson blood.

This - _familiar _person held a smoking microblaster in hand. The barrel was red hot and warped beyond repair. Dangling uneasily in her waning grip, the damaged microblaster clattered wetly into the pooling blood beneath her feet. Flecks of azure showed through in her long waist-length hair, and though she was the vision of an Angel of Death incarnate, there was no mistaking who he saw with his own two eyes. A flood of emotion swelled up inside him that was unlike anything Fayt had ever known; something that he couldn't even put into words.

"You're - you're really... I thought I-!" he paused suddenly, green eyes widening in alarm, "...MARIA, BEHIND YOU!"

There was little warning beyond his words. The first dragon pounced, having slipped stealthily unnoticed out from the flames, with a scream of violent bloodlust, leaving a trail of smoke in its powerful wake from its still burning flesh. Though wounded grievously, there were few creatures that could stand up to a berserk dragon. Maria Traydor only had enough time to whirl around to face her foe before she and the beast disappeared into the thundering struggle.

The white flash of lightning.

"**_MARIA_**!"

* * *

Author's Notes:

Woohoo! I so love killer CLIFF-hangers! Mwaahahahahhha! Feel the pure EVIL-ness!

Phew, okay, I'm done ranting now. I'd like to thank all the guys and gals reading this little ficcie and dropping me some reviews, not to mention being extremely patient in having read thus far. Although the story direction may have disappointed a few folks, I can solemnly swear that the GOOD stuff now begins in earnest. We're here at last, home sweet Elicoor II! If you haven't guessed already, today's crash-landing on this "little" blue is going to be very violent indeed. I bet you can also fathom a guess whose coming up next, eh? Heheheheh. Now, remember don't go easy on me yet; I still take it with a good and the bad, so if you got something to say (constructive or otherwise) go ahead and drop a review. I'm always looking for ways to improve.

On the subject of homages and stuff, well, there's really nothing more to say on it. Burke pretty much addressed all the points I would've touched, so a big "THANK YOU!" to you, man.

Peace out, and look forward to the next chapter, guys! (Albel)


	12. Chapter 11

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, _ja_?

* * *

Fates Intertwined 

Chapter 11:

Taste the Blood

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

There's an old Glyphian saying: 

"It is not the heat; it is the Aquarian wench burning a hole through your backside, that's what!"

_Hmph_, _what a fool that idiot must have been to marry an Aquarian wench in the first place_.

His black cloak, adorned with a mantle of glossy obsidian feathers that once belonged to a proud _Raben_, warded off effectively enough the stinging embers carried by the searing hot gales. Like a _Raben_, he wore his deep cowl down, shrouding his face in darkness from prying eyes and the elements. He did not walk on two like mere men but, more precisely, _glided_ gracefully with sure strides across the scorched earth, as the very picture of the dark messenger of death in the burning halls of Hell.

_Raben _were not birds of prey, nor were they conceited hunters. They were _demons_, carrion eaters of the worst lot, emissaries of the scourge, the last witnesses of the dead, and wherever they went, there was only death. With black tainted steel for talons and beaks dripping of sulfurous acid, they would never rest or know satisfaction for their stomachs were always empty, hungering for more slaughter.

_He _was the _Raben_.

"Sire, permission ter speak?" asked a voice accompanied by the noisy clank of steel plates, penetrating his reverie through the din of the roaring flames.

_How cumbersome that armor was_...

He rose from his perch atop a fallen cedar and strode down, with an unnerving lack of sound, to meet the black armored footman at the bottom of the tree. The sergeant was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, as if wishing he were elsewhere, anywhere but here. It was an expression that didn't go unnoticed by keen eyes of the Raben. He spoke curtly, bringing to bar the brunt of his keen condescending gaze to better that pierced the soul with the power of an invisible sword:

"Speak."

"Sire, with all due respect, the men 're gettin' restless back at the bluff. The heat from the flames is just too powerful! We're gettin' cooked alive in our heavy plate armor, and we're running low on our supply of drinking water. I'm afraid that-"

"You are **_afraid_**?" the Raben snapped viciously.

"Well, uh...what I meant ter say is-"

"**Silence**!"

"Who are you, man? Have you forgotten what you are in the face of doom? Has your _fear_ conquered you at last, you _spineless_ cur?"

"But, sire, I-!"

"Speak the truth **only**! Have you forgotten _whom _you serve? Are you not a proud swordsman of Albel the _Wicked_, Captain of the Black Brigade, _my_ Black Brigade?"

"Why of cour-ugh!"

The sergeant never had a chance to finish his sentence, reduced to a gurgling heap on the sooty ground. In a blink of an eye, something metallic, gleaming visibly for an instant, shot out from the dark folds of Albel's raven cloak, smashing with a sickening crunch of metal. The man was felled in a single blow, his breast plate bearing a blatant dent from where it had suffered the captain's violence. A cacophony of hurried clanking announced the arrival of the stragglers who had remained behind, unbuckling their massive claymores in unison, with near mechanical precision.

"Sire, what happened? We heard..." the lead footman dropped off, his eyes catching the twitching form of the helpless sergeant. The rest of the squad soon fell in a hushed silence as well upon catching the object of his affixation.

Albel Nox snorted derisively, retracting the silvery object quickly before anyone caught sight of it. He hadn't realized he had been shouting loud enough for the rest of the squad to hear his anger over the roaring din of the flames. "Take him away and do something about his armor. I will not have us waste good Glyphian steel on a coward. Call the --- _dragonmares_ to pick up the refuse."

The audible shuffle of steel and toughened leather hide punctuated the air, as the men shifted nervous glanced towards one another. Even though they had trained hard for well over two months now with mock-ups of the beasts, nothing had prepared them for the real thing. The _dragonmares_ --- were a touchy subject, to say the least.

"Well? What are you waiting for, **_maggots_**?" the captain of the Black Brigade snarled, taking an intimidating step forward that immediately set the men on edge. "Step to it! You two, get him out of my sight; the rest, come with me, understood? I will not settle for that son of a _ferret_, Vox, making a fool out of me. We **_will_** find those responsible for this-!"

Suddenly, a startling death cry pierced the air. A savage bitter song that sent eerie chills jolting up the spine of the armored footmen, and grudgingly, even the formidable spine of Albel the Wicked.

_Curse those dragons and all their kind_!

However, it was also the sort of signal he had been waiting for, and he wasted no time mustering the troops. The _Raben_ immediately had the "accident" prone sergeant whisked away, noting that the fool's breathing was starting to get rather shallow. He might just have to look into promoting a new non-commissioned officer sooner than expected. It was such a pity that good help was so hard to find these days, but no matter, for the hunt was on once again.

* * *

At that moment in time, Albel was reassured quite frankly that the efforts of theatric productions and plays, which had all become quite popular in lieu of the war with Aquaria (though he was touch partial to the _tragedies_), would never be able to match up with reality. Other more "normal" persons might have noted on how terrible the scene was: a blue-haired "boy" screaming frantically in some harsh phonetic tongue, half-digging and half-dragging out the limp form of an azure-haired "girl" soaked in crimson from the burning wreck of a dead air dragon. In fact, make that the hulks of two air dragons (on second glance) that he had rescued his companion from, who was no doubt wounded. 

To Albel the Wicked:

It was simply beautiful, perhaps even poetic.

"Sire..." the black armored footmen to his left whispered, while his comrade remained in silent witness, "what's going on? Are they really the ones we're looking for?"

Albel snorted. "Who else do you think, _maggot_?"

"But, sire, it's just plain crazy, don't you think so too? Two dragon knights, both of their air dragons, and all of THIS!" The man gestured about the chilling spectacle of fiery destruction that was still raging across the woods and spreading. If there was not rain soon, the rampaging blaze would certainly burn everything in sight to ashes by the morning. "Just for **them**?"

"And that is exactly of the beauty of it all, do you not think so?"

There was a hushed silence, and without another word, the footmen both unbuckled their massive broadswords and marched forward, their steel plate armor clanking together in machine-like unison. They did absolutely nothing to hide their intent, striding forth with a cold resolution in their systematic gait. All the while, the raven cloaked man stood back and watched, pleased that at least these grunts understood that there was no arguing with his will.

At first the frenzied foreigner hardly noticed the approach of the two black knights, preoccupied completely with his limp female companion who did not respond at all to his increasingly shrill calls. It was when they had approached well within a comfortable distance of brisk charge that he finally became aware of them, his tear-streaked green eyes riveted onto the armed men with open fear. The Raben noted with some amusement as the boy practically dropped his companion on the ground, and in a slight twist, scrambled over towards the headless corpse of a dragon knight none too far away, proceeding to "liberate" the dead man's sword.

Looking some part of a murderous butcher with blood stains all over his clothes now from the girl, he stood up and began to wave the sword threateningly before him, screaming something that was unintelligible. He had subconsciously interposed himself right between the knights and the unmoving female, actions that would've been fitting for a bodyguard. With their extensive training, however, the armored swordsmen continued to bear down threateningly on him.

Albel could easily sense the foolish boy's resolve cracking under pressure. Every subtle shudder, the incessant twitch in his rapidly dilating green eyes, and the most minute of movement in his body language screamed that he was going to run. Already his tenuous grip was slackening into utter uselessness, but then to the captain's rare wonder, something --- _unexpected _--- happened.

The boy gave a peculiar choked gasp, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, as if he were swooning. His body gave a sickly lurch, sagging forwards on an unsteady gait, before he buried the sword blade-tip first into the scorched earth. The approaching black armored footmen stopped in their tracks, unsure of how to proceed. There was a low moan in the air that somehow drowning out the din of the roaring flames completely. It was unnatural sound that sent their guts churning with a cold clammy dread, and it was coming from the foreign blue-haired boy just within sprinting distance.

Perhaps, they should just rush in right now and club the target over the head to knock him out? The girl was obviously no threat in her current invalid state and could easily be apprehended with little or no struggle at all. Something about this fellow, though, was seriously off. He was a threat, a threat that had to be dealt with at once.

Suddenly, there was a hushed silence, all sound dead. The men stood paralyzed, rooted onto the scorched earth by a powerful intangible struggle. They pushed and pulled, willing their bodies to move, but there was no response. Albel held his tongue, his shrouded gaze scanning for the weaves of magic. A double-edged boon granted to him in his foolish youth, he could tell just as well as any Holy Mother, if not better, when somebody was using runology. The Aquarian maggots were so fond of that accursed art that it was fitting that many would fall at his hands, and by the time smarter ones noticed, it was already too late.

_Threads and ribbons._

_Runes and sigils_.

_Words of power_.

_Power of will_.

_The lines of **death**_.

_Where_?

Impossible, thought Albel, an electrifying air of infuriation swirling about him.

Nothing. His cursed eyes couldn't see anything! How could this not be the work of Aquarian runology? Surely, somebody must have come up with a new spell?

There was little more he could contemplate as he beheld a sudden explosion of earth envelope the paralyzed footmen. Their armored afforded them no protection, flesh and bone ripped to gory ribbons in an instant. Death waited for no mortals.

Molten red-hot metal sprayed into the air like shrapnel, accompanied by clumps of heavy earth. A hissing metallic ring rose over the horror of noise that came crashing down with deafening force as Albel leapt back, drawing his katana instinctively, and lashed out with a defensive circular slash. Unfazed by the jarring aftershock of the "spell" being released, he deflected the offending debris skillfully in mid-air. Sharp rings punctuated the roaring din every time steel met steel, accompanied by brief scintillating sparks.

Landing gracefully in relative safety, the captain of the Black Brigade swiftly slipped into a neutral stance, brandishing his katana towards the dissipating cloud, ready for anything. His battle hardened instincts were in a rage, fueled by the addictive adrenaline in his excited muscles, but Albel did not allow them to rule his better judgment. He had misjudged his prey, certainly in respect to the boy. It was a seemingly trivial mistake, but one that had cost him two of his black swordsmen. The maggot will pay for this deception, preferably with an arm or a leg in exchange!

The raven cloaked man watched patiently, expecting his quarry to emerge at any moment. All of his senses were at full alert, his mind rifling through potential battle plans to humiliate and capture his prey. Yes, Albel admitted that "keeping things alive" wasn't particular his specialty, but he could manage well enough. None of his plans, however, accounted for the downpour of _rain_. The black sky groaned with thunder from up on high, and down it comes, pounding in a sudden deluge.

_The flinch in your eye calls your bluff / Feel free to die when you've had enough_

The whistling rapport of force through the rippling air, flashing with the gleam of steel, was the captain's only warning. Instincts kicked and defended with his katana, blocking the almost certain deathblow. A violent thundering shockwave struck the air as the reddish black blur carried him back through the red haze. Albel roaring with fury strained stubbornly against the powerful momentum of his opponent, his feet digging wide furrows into the scorched earth.

"Insolence!" the Raben shouted in anger.

Ignoring the incredible velocity that left a fantastic trail of fiery embers and debris in their wake, the cloaked man honed his haywire battle instincts to a fine needle point, focusing his will inwards to single focal point. The focus, a crystal shard more infinitely perfect in light and luster than any gem imaginable, hung serenely over a still pool of water and he grasped it tightly with his hands. _Chakra_ (or _ki_ as the Aquarian maggots preferred to call it), the reserves of spiritual energy stored within the human body that only a few truly skilled warriors could call upon, flowed through his veins like hot fire.

"_Chakra Baasuto_!"

A vibrant shockwave of blue energy promptly erupted from the captain's cloaked form, hurling the indistinct interloper away with the force of an explosion that effectively killed Albel's own backward slide to a sudden halt. However, he spared no time to gloat as he heard the double staccato of footsteps landing just ahead of him. His acetic gaze immediately shot up, glaring through the crimson haze of the rain that soiled his once raven cloak with red, to catch a glimpse of his attacker for the first time.

It was the _boy_, a completely absurd notion initially in the convoluted mind of Albel Nox. What was the fool hoping to accomplish with that ridiculous stance? Is he trying to imitate a beast, hunched over forwards with his center of gravity low to the ground? With that sort of weak stance, the boy was asking to have his head served on a silver platter! It was the kind of service that the captain of the Black Brigade would gladly render if it weren't for his orders.

Wait a minute, what is this smell? thought Albel, taking a tentative whiff of the air. This coppery scent --- its **_blood_**! It is _raining _**blood**.

An unsettling wave of nausea threatened his shuddering being as the cloaked man struggled to stay up right, much to his private chagrin. He was a warrior, a soldier, a killer. Why was he getting skittish over a _little _bloody rain like some new recruit? Oh right, it wasn't just a little bloody rain; it was a whole **lot **of bloody rain. The entire countryside was raining blood from the damned black skies!

No, this was no maggoty boy; this was a _maggoty _**demon**.

Albel crushed the fleeting weakness with a vengeance, tearing the soiled raven cloak from his shoulders. A flash of metal punctuated the ripping shrieks of fabric, as a faint blue energy formed a humming aura about him that shielded him from the blood rain. Terrible and elegant all at once, his crimson eyes bored hatefully into the deceptive "demon" that did not even meet his gaze. He was going to enjoy tearing this abomination to pieces.

"Child's play, _maggot_," the captain spat, gesturing with a clawed humanoid mechanical contraption that took the place of his left hand, "if you think you are the wolf among sheep, then the only fool here, this day, is you!"

The demon cocked his head to the side in a most unnatural angle, twisting about with an audible churn of muscles and bone that would have sent lesser men screaming in terror. "_Mag_-_got_?"

"_Hooo_, so it speaks! How unsightly it is to witness that a filthy demon can speak _Gaitt_."

"_Maggot_?"

"The only _maggot_ here is --- _you_."

"...Maggot..."

"What is the matter? Do not tell me you have second thoughts about your inevitable _death_?"

"...**Maggot**..."

"Come on then! Use your accursed sorcery again, _maggot_."

"_Albel_," the blue-haired demon hissed, raising his head suddenly to meet the captain's crimson gaze, "**ALBEL NOX!**"

Astonishment blossomed into cold fury, his body reacting instinctively before his mind could comprehend the intriguing implications. The demon smashes into the ground he once held with thunderous force, sending a wake of shockwaves rippling through the crimson haze of blood. Vaulting high upwards into the air, Albel righted himself about in mid-flight with an agile acrobatic twist to launch a counterattack. Soulless eyes, black and empty, with glaring red pinpricks of light for pupils greeted him face to face, and they nearly stole the breath from his lungs in shock. Their blades clashed, with a chilling metallic ring, in a decisive instant of sparks.

Fast; the demon was incredibly fast. Never before had the Raben ever seen anyone so swift of hand and foot in all of his years! He snarled and kicked off the ghoulish bloodstained boy with a vicious stroke, opening the distance between them. White lightning flashed in the black sky.

"_Hi-ken_ - _Kamaitachi Nishiki_!"

Albel's katana shined brightly with swirling blue chakra and he slashed at his target, sending a spiraling column of sickling winds tearing violently through the air. The deadly vortex rapidly closed in on the airborne demon, but the outcome was far different from his murderous expectations, the attack easily deflected aside with a casual wave of the blue-haired demon's broadsword. A fiery explosion of air grated the captain's ears and face when the deadly cyclone slammed into some burning wreckage, causing the vibrant flames to roar even higher.

Landing soundly into a half crouch, Albel charged determinedly across the bloodstained ground that began to pool with puddles of crimson. He lashed out with a swift feint, forcing the demon into an acrobatic twist as he descended to evade the razor edge of the captain's katana. Having taken the bait "hook, line, and sinker," Albel exploited the opening mercilessly, spinning agilely into a whirlwind roundhouse kick to the demon's vulnerable gut.

The satisfying shock of fleshy resistance reverberated audibly to the joyous triumph of the crimson-eyed man. Caught off guard, the demon hurtled through the air with a pained groan, while Albel listened patiently to the helpless body skipping and scrapping sickeningly against the earth. However, the demon corrected himself swiftly as he skipped through another pool of blood, kicked off, and came streaking right back like a human missile.

"What in Hades?"

The captain of the Black Brigade pivoted aside, dodging the powerful overhead swing by mere inches. As he turned, he tried to exploit the brief opening that he sensed subconsciously on his opponent's back and ate a soled foot to his jaw instead for his troubles. The stiff disorienting blow sent Albel staggering back surprised **and **dizzied. He had not even seen where that accursed kick had come from!

Damnation! Albel cursed himself acidly, I should not have underestimated this _maggot_. I wasted too much time goading him on, a foolish, foolish mistake!

The blue-haired demon came again, pressing the advantage with a quick explosive fighting step, lunging forwards with a wicked thrust of his "borrowed" broadsword. The fatal blow to his heart it would have been, but even though dizzied, the Raben managed to parry the strike. A brilliant shower of sparks flew as the blades scrapped across one another. His attacker, however, had the edge of momentum and was carrying back by shear force. Sensing this shift in balance, Albel knew he was in trouble and threw down his gambit:

"_Kai _- _Hakke no Kaiten_!"

Abruptly, the blue aura of chakra surrounding the captain of the Black Brigade flared with a terrible shriek. He pivoted on his heels, spinning about faster than the eye could see, and released a sudden burst of concentrated charka in a powerful miniature cyclone. Stopping his fatal momentum in an instant, he killed two birds with one stone, blowing the demon away ferociously. The blue-haired youth was flattened, literally, into the soiled earth by the force of the vacuum, punctuated by an appalling crunch.

When Albel came to a stop, he nearly collapsed on his knees, shoving his katana into the earth to steady his balance. Leaning heavily upon the handle, the strain began to show evidently in the scowl on his perspiring face. This last technique had sapped a great deal of his chakra reserves, not to mention the defensive aura he was still generating to ward off the rain of blood was not working wonders for his stamina either. At this strenuous pace, the Raben wagered he could only last another good five minutes.

For shame, it seems I will have to end this game soon, he thought ambivalently. It had been a long time since he had encountered worthy sport. The latest batch of Aquarian maggots was simply just not up to _par _anymore.

It was groaning whisper of his name, predictable but no less eerie, alerted Albel to his target's condition. Bruised and battered, bearing tell-tale burns from the chakra burst that added the sickening bittersweet scent of sizzling flesh to the air, the demon had risen once again. His body shuddered and jerked with erratic convulsions, screaming through body language alone that it had reached its limit, yet he continued to be defiant. He placed one foot in front of the other, taking his shaky strides step by step, holding onto his broadsword in a white-knuckled death grip, as his hellish eyes bore holes into Albel the Wicked's quivering soul.

Forget the mission! The demon was soaked to the **bone **in blood, and the captain had scarcely ever seen anything else so splendidly terrible on the battlefield. The _maggot_ would die _beautifully_, of this he was certain.

Lo and behold did Albel Nox smile.

The captain of the Black Brigade cleansed his katana free of blood, with an infusion of blue chakra, as he sheathed it into its withdrawn scabbard, an ominous hiss of steel punctuated by an audible click. Buckling the scabbard serenely to his side once more, he stepped forth, leaning his forward low to the ground in a half-crouch, one clawed limb on his scabbard, and his half-gloved hand on the hand of his katana. A deadly killing intent radiated visibly, rolling of his glowing body in red waves of heat, the corded muscles in his legs coiling up, like a panther posed to pounce. This was the _battou-jutsu_ stance.

"Tear beautifully into ribbons, _demon_."

Albel shot forward explosively, like a blue comet, bounding through the air in great leaps. The twin braided ponytails of his hair whipped in the wind as each footstep drove massive gouts of earth and sparkling embers upwards in his thunderous wake. Exhilaration filled his veins like sweet ambrosia for in that instant --- he was death incarnate, the Raben. His technique was perfect, a scintillating flash of metal in an ephemeral roar of lightning. It was...

"_Mumyou Jinpuu Ryu _--- _Hi-satsu_ - **Zanmato**!"

_Clear the mind from righteousness suffered_ /_ Witness the moment of your failures prosper_

"ALBEL, YOU SON OF A BASTARD, STOP!"

..._What_?

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Got _Blood_? Eheheh, for those of you who might have been disturbed in my thematic choice for imagery, my bad. I kinda got obsessed after some you-know-what, but in any case, I hope I was able to do this incarnation of Albel with some justice. There's still some back story on him that I haven't touch upon yet that will explain his behavior here and behavior to come in due time. Of course, this is roughly Albel the Wicked as you first meet him in the game, so I tried to keep his whole uber-powerful Bishie of Doom (TM) schtick intact. For those perceptive among you, you might notice a little touch to his dialogue too. Think it might have something to do with his nobility?

I think I laid down a pretty good bunch of references in here, best of luck to the fellow who manages to spot them all! Bonus points to the homies who actually try to figure out where all the martial techniques are from; I'm sorry I didn't use Albel's claw arm much. This just wasn't the type of fight where I could make use of it much.

So without further digress, please! Send in your reviews (comments or flames are both cool) because I need to know where I screwed up (or what I did right), and to the courageous folks who responded previously, thank you as always for your support.

Peace out, and look forward to the next chapter! (WOMAN THE COOL SPY)


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